775 

C23      Carroll    - 


Old   at   forty   or 


Southern  Branch 
of  the 

University  of  California 


Los  Angeles 


Form  L-l 


This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 

1  7 

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OCT  2  2  1924 
APR  2  2  1925 


5m-8,'21 


OLD  AT  FORTY 
OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

SIMPLIFYING 
THE  SCIENCE  OF  GROWING  OLD 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK    •    BOSTON   •    CHICAGO  •    DALLAS 
ATLANTA  •    SAN   FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LIMITED 

LONDON  •    BOMBAY   •    CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE  MACMILLAN  CO.  OF  CANADA,  LTD. 

TORONTO 


OLD  AT  FORTY 
OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

SIMPLIFYING 
THE  SCIENCE  OF  GROWING  OLD 


BY 
ROBERT  S.  CARROLL,  M.D. 

Medical  Director,  Highland  Hospital, 
Asheville,  North  Carolina 

Author  of  "The  Mastery  of  Nervousness,"  "The  Soul 
in  Suffering."  "Our  Nervous  Friends" 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 
1920 

All  riffhtt  reterved 


COPTBIGHT,  1920, 

BY  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 


Set  up  and  electrotyped.     Published,  July,  1920 


T75 


THE  THOUGHT 

Whether  the  constructive  forces  of  maturity  are 
to  wane  in  the  early  forties  or  to  remain,  impelling 
,and  unimpaired,  into  the  sixties  is  a  question  of 
fn  personal  interest  to  every  vital  man  and  woman. 
/^      Most  of  our  ancestors  who  have  known  fulness 
£  of  years  merely  met,  through  fortuitous  circum- 
stances, the  Accident  of  Old  Age.     Others  endowed 
perchance  with  unusual  clearness  of  vision  sensed 
'and  practiced  the  Art  of  Growing  Old. 

But  never  before  in  man's  history  has  the  ability 

.  to  lengthen  and  better  the  latter  years,  to  live  out 

in  satisfaction  and  comfort  the  scriptural  "three 

score  and  ten,"  been  reducible  to  general  practice. 

To-day  we  may  speak  confidently  of  the  Science  of 

p"  Growing  Old — a  science  which  has  been  translated 

J<  into  simple  terms  in  the  following  chapters. 

1     To  those  who  are  looking  to  chemistry  or  surg- 
>.  ery  for  a  wonder-working  drug  or  youth-restoring 
operation,  these  pages  will  prove  a  disappoint- 
ment. 

"OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY"  is  for  those 
who  are  seeking  the  guidance  of  scientifically 
revealed  truth,  not  the  leadings  of  visionary 
pseudo-science. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTEa 

I  How  WE  GROW  OLD    .........      1 

II  THREE  VITAL.  FAULTS  .........     10 

III  WHY  THE  BODY  FAILS     ........     19 

IV  FOOD  THAT  WRECKS     .........     28 

V  PLEASURE  OR  PROFIT  IN  EATING  ......     40 

VI  THE  EASE  THAT  DESTROYS     .......     60 

VII  BLENDING  WORK  AND  PLAY   .......     72 

VIII  RENEWING  ONE'S  YOUTH  ........     92 

IX  WHY  THE  MIND  FAILS     ........  102 

X  KEEPING  THE  MIND  YOUNG    .......  110 

XI  WHEN  SLEEP  Is  A  PROBLEM  .......  121 

XII  SUNSHINE  OR  SHADOWS     ........  133 

XIII  THE  BEST  Is  YET  TO  BE  .                                     .  141 


OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG 
AT  SIXTY 

CHAPTER  I 
HOW  WE  GROW  OLD 

What  is  Age — I  am  wondering  how  you  and  I 
grow  old.  This  wonder  leads  to  another — what  is 
age  ?  And,  thus  wondering,  one  becomes  thought- 
ful. ''She  is  old  beyond  her  time."  "He  never 
lost  his  youth  thru  his  seventy  years."  What  do 
we  mean  by  "old"  and  "young"?  Is  it  a  matter 
of  multiplying  wrinkles,  of  the  whitening  and  thin- 
ning of  locks  once  richly  colored  and  luxuriant,  of 
shrinking  and  softening  muscles  which  a  few 
years  agone  leaped  with  the  zest  of  living?  Is  it 
when  the  keepers  of  the  house  shall  tremble,  and 
the  grinders  cease  because  they  are  few,  and 
those  that  look  out  of  the  windows  be  darkened — 
that  old  age  is  upon  us ;  or  is  it  more  than  muscles, 
teeth  and  dulling  vision?  These  and  other  visible 
signs  of  age  came  to  him  "who  never  lost  his  youth 
thru  his  seventy  years,"  yet  only  the  thoughtless 
called  him  "old."  What  had  he  that  kept  youth 
close  thru  the  multiplying  seasons?  Whence  the 
erect  stature,  the  alert  step,  the  quickly  responding 
smile,  the  warming  sympathies,  the  grasp  of  cur- 
rent topics,  the  unwavering  optimism  and  childlike 


2       OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

faith  in  a  personal,  saving  Creator?  Is  it  not  that 
he  has  held  tight  his  responsiveness  to  life  and 
things,  people  and  events?  Physically,  mentally, 
spiritually  he  has  refused  to  allow  his  interests  to 
wane ;  to  those  which  are  constructive  he  has  ever 
attended ;  from  interests  contributing  to  the  pass- 
ing hour  only  he  has  turned  with  resolution.  He 
has  ignored  the  selfishness-breeding.  With  a  wis- 
dom far  from  universal  he  still  chooses  each  day 
a  refreshing,  developing  interest. 

We  age  differently.  Gradually  our  bodies  be- 
come less  and  less  resilient — the  rebound  goes, 
then  the  strength ;  and  ultimately  the  weakness  of 
senility  is  certain  if  life  survives  the  years.  The 
capacity  of  the  body  to  respond  to  the  demands 
of  active  physical  living  has  waned.  And  to  most 
of  us  the  essence  of  senility  lies  in  the  physical 
changes  so  obvious  and,  to  the  eyes  of  youth  or 
thoughtlessness,  so  convincing. 

But  robust  bodies  frequently  bear  minds  which 
have  long  since  lost  much  of  their  power  of 
deeper  understanding,  of  appreciative  response,  of 
wise  decision  and  resolute  undertaking.  A  mind 
dull  of  emotion,  sluggish  of  thought,  unstable  in 
will,  has  lost  its  freshness — its  youth  is  no  more. 

The  spirit  too — that  self  we  boast  as  immortal 
— how  early  it  may  cease  any  effort  to  be  increas- 
ingly responsive  to  the  things  eternal !  Far  from 
renewing  its  youth,  the  soul  is  satisfied  with  its 
early  growth,  and  when  body,  mind  or  spirit  says 
"It  is  enough,"  just  then  we  begin  to  a>ge. 

In  our  common  conception  of  becoming  old,  we 
sense,  however,  but  the  physical  aspect.  "As  old 


HOW  WE  GROW  OLD  3 

as  our  arteries"  is  a  medical  truism — that  medical 
which  has  not  progressed  beyond  a  knowledge  of 
the  physical  alone.  And,  unquestionably,  an  in- 
curable old  age  does  finally  come  to  flesh  and 
blood,  but — here  is  our  message — it  is  in  human 
power  to  stay  the  fleeing  years,  to  carry  strength 
and  freshness,  understanding  and  usefulness,  the 
very  joy  of  living,  past  the  proverbial  "  three  score 
and  ten. "  And  this  power  is  based  unalterably  in 
the  soul — "the  captain  of  our  fate." 

How  We  Age — Probably  few  of  us  realize  how 
frequently  the  spiritual  self — that  self  which  dic- 
tates our  ultimate  policy  of  life,  the  arbiter  of  our 
decisions,  the  presiding  judge  at  the  council-table 
where  our  life's  principles  are  determined — that 
this  deeply  placed  soul-self  is  first  to  age.  Joel 
wrote,  "Your  old  men  shall  dream  dreams,  your 
young  men  shall  see  visions."  The  mind  dreams, 
and  dreams  are  neither  prophetic  nor  inspired. 
But  who,  wrought  of  flesh,  has  not  in  his  soul  felt 
the  touch  of  divinity,  and  for  the  hour  seen  visions 
of  a  better  self — masterful,  merciful,  exalted; 
from  twelve  to  eighteen  how  they  thrill  and  beau- 
tify life,  before  we  are  "disillusioned,"  as  the 
sated  ones  say.  How  heaven-revealing  are  those 
hours  of  high  resolve !  How  freely,  then,  we  would 
emulate  the  martyrs  and  give  our  all  that  our 
visions  be  not  dimmed! 

Part  of  the  fire  of  youth  is  the  flaming  forth  of 
the  virtues.  We  all  know  how  gripping  is  our 
early  religious  training.  How  much  more  com- 
mon it  is  to  lose  faith  than  to  change  faith !  When 
in  life  are  the  whisperings  of  the  still  small  voice 


4       OLD  AT  FORTY  OE  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

so  distinct,  or  do  they  command  such  unquestioned 
obedience?  Religious  workers  testify  abundantly 
to  the  rarity  of  conversions  in  maturity  as 
compared  with  those  in  adolescence,  for  with  mul- 
tiplying years  the  capacity  to  undergo  a  change 
of  heart  becomes  less  common.  Possibly  the  aver- 
age man's  satisfaction  in  living  content  with  his 
few  youthful  hours  of  soul-revelation,  and  in  giv- 
ing more  and  more  of  the  fulness  of  his  days  to 
material  living,  evidences  the  immaturity  of  our 
race.  That  this,  however,  is  no  fixed  law  of  our 
being  is  revealed  to  the  observing  in  those  many 
lives  of  unquestioned  closeness  to  God,  which  have 
been  found  in  all  civilizations  thruout  recorded 
history.  We  are  speaking  of  the  average  man 
and  woman  in  whom  the  power  of  early  religious 
ideals  to  practically  influence  conduct  is  lost  be- 
fore thirty. 

We  frequently  speak  of  the  conservation  of 
habit,  and  no  law  of  development  so  holds  us  as 
this  which  takes  us  over  the  same  path  again  and 
again,  even  tho'  a  meandering,  indirect  path.  A 
thousand  things  we  do  incorrectly,  imperfectly, 
bunglingly,  perchance,  and  continue  so  to  do,  for 
thus  we  were  taught.  Habits  of  thinking,  decid- 
ing, eating,  exercising,  praying,  remain  unaltered 
and  become  more  and  more  fortified  against 
changes  suggested  by  reason  or  righteousness. 
The  emotional  life,  so  high-keyed  in  youth,  thrilling 
with  such  wondrous  possibilities  of  beauteous  or 
riotous  living,  may  become  rife  with  fears,  may 
repel  rebelliously  and  resentfully  every  obstacle  to 
desire,  or  cheap  hope  evolve  but  a  sudsy  optimism. 


HOW  WE  GROW  OLD  5 

Emotional  overactivity  is  normal  during  early 
years,  but  emotional  responses  become  so  fixed 
with  the  majority,  before  forty,  that  the  student  of 
character  can  predetermine  the  reaction  of  an  indi- 
vidual in  a  given  situation  as  accurately  as  the 
naturalist  can  foretell  the  defense  of  certain  birds 
or  animals  when  attacked. 

The  intellect,  too,  is  usually  settled  into  grooves 
which  decide  its  activities  before  the  forties  are 
reached.  Teachers  who  must  keep  step  with  prog- 
ress, the  exceptional  student  in  the  professions, 
isolated  men  or  women  spurred  by  personal  am- 
bition or  the  genuine  love  of  study  persevere  in 
post-graduate  work.  These  actually  read  and 
profit  by  their  "five-foot  bookshelf,"  and  add  to 
their  intellectual  stores  more  from  year  to  year 
than  is  served  to  them  by  the  daily  news  or 
thought  out  for  them  in  weekly  and  monthly  maga- 
zines. But  do  not  the  majority  of  grown-ups  yawn 
or  become  irritated  at  the  appeal  of  the  intellect 
for  more? 

Many  minds  reason  better  as  they  mature.  The 
power  to  reason  is  the  power  to  group,  to  classify, 
and  this  relieves  memory  of  a  load  of  detail.  It 
is  one  of  the  mind's  most  comfortable  economies. 
And  so  the  good  reasoner  often  retreats  behind 
his  reasoning  and  avoids  the  insistence  of  an  un- 
ending procession  of  facts,  many  of  which,  un- 
doubtedly, he  could  use  if  he  would,  to  augment 
his  powers.  So  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Everybody, 
thirty-five  marks  the  age  of  mental  comfort  and 
satisfaction.  College  work  is  over.  Opinions 
have  been  formed  on  all  vital  subjects,  formed — 


6       OLD  AT  FORTY  OB  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

and  here's  the  rub — re-expressed,  and  for  the 
majority  expression  is  crystallization.  Expressed 
beliefs  are  slowly  retracted.  At  thirty-five  occu- 
pation has  been  chosen,  home  well  started,  and  all 
too  surely  the  doors  of  the  mind  begin  to  close; 
and  the  evolutionary  is  henceforth  termed,  "  revo- 
lutionary. " 

Spiritually  aging  at  twenty,  mentally  aging  at 
thirty-five — what  of  the  body?  It,  of  the  three,  is 
most  susceptible  to  permanently  disabling  acci- 
dent. Overnight  it  may  be  smitten  in  childhood, 
and  all  capacity  for  future  growth  blighted.  A 
flash,  and  eyes  are  blinded  and  hearing  rent  asun- 
der. The  decrepitude  of  deformity  and  infirmity 
may  be  a  heritage  from  youth,  but  rarely  thus  does 
artificial  senility  first  come.  Multitudes  begin 
complaining  in  their  twenties  or  thirties  and  com- 
plain on,  to  the  end,  decrying  their  pale,  flabby, 
weakling  bodies.  Others,  deformed  by  their  over- 
abundance of  bulk,  wheeze  and  puff  and  stew  thru 
comfortless  decades.  Strength,  grace,  agility,  vir- 
ility, comeliness,  capacity  for  endurance,  the  thrill 
of  effort,  the  virtue  of  physical  health  and  whole- 
someness  have  long  since  gone  for  them.  "Fore- 
ordained,'* a  " heritage, "  "poor  rearing,"  are 
claimed  in  explanation — but  falsely.  The  true  ex- 
planation is  found  in  the  individual's  physical 
habits.  Ignorance  of  the  laws  of  well-living  or, 
in  the  face  of  knowledge,  the  soul's  acceptance  of 
comfort  and  ease  of  days  or  decades  of  pleasure- 
bearing  indulgence  tells  the  tale.  The  world's 
great  mass  of  infirmity  and  presenility,  then,  is  not 
based  in  defective  physical  inheritance  but  in  ig- 


HOW  WE  GROW  OLD  7 

norance  of  the  right  way  of  life  or  the  deficiency 
of  character  to  pursue  that  way.  The  normal 
body  mellows  into  age  gradually  and  comfortably. 
For  the  generation  covering  the  years  of  maturity 
the  changes  are  almost  imperceptible.  Capacity 
for  physical  readjustment  lingers  long.  Even  the 
development  of  crude  muscular  strength  is  not 
limited  to  youth-  The  body's  marvelous  power  to 
adjust  itself  to  changing  seasons,  to  multiplying 
vicissitudes  or  altering  conditions  of  life,  responds 
much  more  promptly  after  forty  than  the  mind's 
ability  to  reconstruct  opinion  or  belief.  The  med- 
ical profession  itself  is  inadequately  alive  to  the 
physiologic  response  of  human  tissues  to  right- 
eously fulfilled  laws  of  physical  living,  even  thru 
the  years  of  late  maturity.  Unless  some  vital  or- 
gan is  disabled,  the  average  man  of  affairs,  and  his 
wife,  can  double,  yes,  often  treble,  their  physical 
reserve ;  can  increase  several  fold  their  vital  capac- 
ity, as  late  as  sixty.  An  advanced  medical  science 
to-day  is  teaching  that  many  hearts  and  kidneys 
and  most  stomachs  and  livers  and  all  voluntary 
muscles,  which  include  most  aching  backs  and 
flabby  fronts,  can  be  marvelously  rejuvenated  by 
right  living,  rightly  lived. 

_  Your  wise  Good  Doctor  is  consulted  in  his  office 
by  Mr.  Man-of- Wealth,  who  is  but  forty  and  who 
offers  him  a  fee,  any  fee  perchance,  to  renew  for 
him  his  failing  physical  youth.  Operation,  treat- 
ments, medicines,  for  these  he  will  pay,  and  per- 
haps express  thanks.  "But,"  the  doctor  says, 
* '  you  are  living  ignorantly,  you  must  change  your 
habits." 


8       OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

This  starts  an  unsatisfactory  discussion. 

* '  My  parents  lived  as  I  do  and  lived  to  a  ripe  old 
age." 

"You  are  living  ignorantly, ' '  the  counsellor  in- 
sists, and  from  the  abundance  of  his  experience  he 
foresees  a  disappointing  outcome  of  the  interview. 
His  patient  does  not  wish  nor  intend  to  change  his 
habits — he  is  already  mentally  too  old  to  profit  by 
the  saving  knowledge  his  physician  is  eager  to 
give.  And  rare  is  the  medical  adviser  who  pre- 
sumes to  tell  Mr.  Kichman  or  even  Mr.  Poorman 
the  whole,  bald  truth :  that  his  body  is  weakening, 
his  appetite  fading,  his  sleep  ceasing  to  satisfy  be- 
cause he  is  morally  lacking,  because  he  is  so  de- 
fective in  character  that  he  cannot  deny  himself 
the  gratifications  of  his  table,  the  soothing  seduc- 
tions of  nicotin  or  the  fatuous  boost  of  alcoholic 
excess ;  that  he  is  so  lacking  in  moral  backbone  as 
to  be  incapable  of  exercising  consistently  and  vig- 
orously enough  to  deserve  health  or  to  earn  vigor 
— or  even  his  bread.  Mr.  Kichman  would  leave 
the  presence  of  such  counsel,  insulted.  Mr.  Poor- 
man would  tersely  remark  that  he  thought  he  had 
come  to  a  doctor,  not  to  a  preacher-  Long  since, 
for  both  patients,  the  day  to  receive  benefit  thru 
moral  correction  has  passed.  Both  Mr.  Kichman 
and  Mr.  Poorman  have  failed  utterly  to  vision  the 
saving  help  proffered,  the  only  help  which  could 
bring  them  a  renewing  of  years.  Without  intel- 
lects to  discern  the  truth,  or  the  moral  force  to 
put  that  truth  into  daily  use,  their  futures  are  lost. 
There  never  will  be  a  medicated  Fountain  of 
Youth. 


How  do  we  grow  old  ?  Not  the  exceptional  man 
or  woman,  but  just  you  and  I?  Early,  thru  defi- 
ciency in  our  spiritual  responses ;  later,  by  becom- 
ing satisfied  with  dulling  mental  reactions — and 
only  finally  by  the  inevitable  but  too  often  unsea- 
sonable loss  of  physical  adaptability ! 


CHAPTER  II 
THEEE  VITAL  FAULTS 

Food-Exercise  Balance — If  we  accept  the  con- 
clusions of  our  first  chapter,  that  the  mass  of  men 
and  women  age  first  spiritually,  then  mentally  and 
last  physically,  our  following  chapters,  to  be  con- 
sistent, should  deal  with  the  problems  in  like  order. 
But  while  we  shall  insist  that  prematurely  aging 
souls  are  responsible  for  robbing  the  average  per- 
son of  a  score  of  healthful,  constructive,  happi- 
ness-breeding, earthly  years,  we  shall,  for  reasons 
of  emphasis,  invert  the  order  and  study  bodily 
depreciation  and  restitution  first,  then  mental,  and 
save  the  best  for  the  last. 

Zoology  teaches  of  carnivorous  beasts,  herbi- 
vorous herds,  and  of  man,  the  omnivorous.  What 
has  he  not  eaten?  Where  among  living,  growing 
things  does  he  not  to-day  seek  his  food,  that  he 
may  subsist,  that  he  may  have  plenty,  that  he  may 
luxuriously  feast?  The  wealth  of  the  tropics  is 
distributed  to  the  tables  of  the  populous  North  by 
fleets  of  fast  freighters;  the  surface  of  the  sea  is 
spread  with  nets  and  its  depths  pierced  that  its 
teeming  life  may  feed  our  hunger  or  caress  our 
palates;  hill-side  and  plain  have  been  converted 
into  a  million  blooming,  nodding,  fruiting  fields, 

that  many  may  eat,  that  thousands  may  sate. 

10 


THREE  VITAL  FAULTS  11 

Even  the  ice-locked  antipodes  support  the  fat- 
laden  Eskimo  in  half-yearly  indolence.  A  super- 
abundant provision  exists  to  feed  the  world's  bil- 
lions! Pestilence  and  war  may  interfere  with 
mankind's  food  supply  for  a  few,  unusual  years, 
but  scientific  production  and  preservation  and 
foresight  will  secure  the  future  against  even  these. 
Our  children's  children  face  the  problem  of  over, 
not  under  food-supply.  And  they  must  adapt 
themselves  with  rare  wisdom  to  the  temptation  of 
food-variety  and  food-abundance,  or  the  race  will 
suffer  even  as  do  overfed  thousands  to-day,  and 
the  already  large  toll  of  the  food-damaged  be  uni- 
versally multiplied. 

Cain  was  a  hunter,  Abel  an  husbandman.  Bill 
is  a  farmer,  Jim  a  mechanic  and  Pete  a  laborer; 
but  what  of  the  Williams,  Arthurs,  Alphonsos, 
Horatios,  Reginalds,  not  to  mention  the  Lillians, 
Maries,  Beatrices  and  Pearls  who  toil  not,  neither 
do  they  spin?  In  a  large  measure  to-day,  and 
with  fateful  certainty,  will  come  a  scientifically 
produced  plenty,  arm  in  arm  with  an  increasing 
decrease  in  human  effort  made  possible  by  man's 
uncanny  ingenuity  in  redeeming  the  soil  and  cre- 
ating labor-saving  machinery.  Even  now  the  mi- 
nority easily  food-supplies  the  majority. 

In  an  early  chapter  of  Genesis  we  find  ordained 
the  greatest  single  health  edict  of  all  time,  but 
already  for  many  generations  earning  one 's  bread 
has  not  been  aristocratic,  and  to-day  sweating 
brows  are  not  popular.  Physical  effort  grows  less 
necessary  in  the  relation  of  food  to  work,  and 
we  prevision  ages  to  come  when  for  the  large 


12      OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

majority  labor  of  hand  will  hardly  be  practical. 
Still  we  hear  no  scientifically  divine  oracle  an- 
nouncing a  principle  which  divorces  disease  from 
physical  idleness.  The  word  disease  is  here  used 
to  include  both  of  its  unhappy  meanings. 

So  much  for  the  race,  the  race  which  is  to  be  but 
an  evolvement  of  the  you's  and  me's — and  what  of 
us?  Most  of  us,  consciously  or  otherwise,  even  in 
lean  after-war  days  have  a  genuine  problem  in 
eating.  Our  great  grand-elders  labored  as  the 
Lord  commanded  the  original  children  of  Adam — 
there  was  more  for  their  children.  Our  own  par- 
ents had  too  much,  and  with  the  plenty  came 
neither  food-wisdom  nor  any  personal  necessity 
for  effort.  We  are  three  generations  from  fron- 
tier life.  We  represent  the  age  of  the  world's 
greatest  plenty.  When  we  have  our  lives  insured, 
we  comfortably  cite  the  old  ages  attained  by  our 
sires  and  grandsires.  But  already,  even  before 
forty,  we  are  paying  the  price  of  too  much  "eat" 
and  too  little  sweaty  work. 

With  us  all,  appetite  is  peculiarly  a  matter  of 
personal  habit  and  the  good  things  of  mother's 
table  continue  to  tempt  us  thru  years  of  over- 
indulgence. As  boys,  we  needed  and  were  given 
three  hearty  meals,  with  many  bread-and-jams  and 
cookies  and  bags  of  candy,  in  between.  Even  as 
girls,  many  detrimental  sweets  were  allowed  in 
and  out  of  season.  Long  before  forty  our  out-of- 
door  play-times  have  ceased  and  with  them  the 
chore-hour  or  the  mornings,  helping  mother; 
school  athletics,  hilarious  days  spent  swimming, 
fishing,  rowing  and  tramping  are  no  more,  and 


THREE  VITAL  FAULTS  13 

many  other  habits  of  living  have  changed.  Most 
of  us  make  no  least  attempt  to  adapt  our  food  to 
our  changing  customs.  We  go  so  far  as  to  claim 
for  ourselves  personal  endowments:  "cast-iron" 
stomachs,  the  ability  to  " digest  tacks"  and  the 
capacity  to  ever  eat  our  fill  without  a  rebuking 
qualm.  But  more  pet  their  stomachs  with  the 
abundance  of  thought  and  protective  care  the 
mother  gives  a  sick  baby.  And  the  lists  of  what 
does  not  agree  with  them,  beginning  with  the  most 
digestible  of  all  food,  milk,  gradually  become  more 
and  more  sane  as  they  approach  fudge,  fried  cab- 
bage and  lobster  a  la  Newberg.  By  forty  our 
eating  habits  may  become  so  entrenched  as  to  be 
considered  by  many  on  a  par  with  personal  rights, 
and  any  modification  suggested  by  our  health  ad- 
viser is  followed  by  such  unquestioned  discomfort 
that  most  of  us  fall  back  on  the  self-satisfying  ex- 
cuse of  personal  idiosyncrasy,  even  as  does  the 
smoker  or  wine-bibber  in  attempted  reform.  But, 
with  the  passing  of  each  year  savingly  unsympa- 
thetic science  becomes  more  and  more  certain  that 
the  balance  of  physical  health  can  be  maintained 
thru  the  generations,  or  restored  to  you  and  me, 
when  lost,  only  by  a  rational  adjustment  of  muscle 
activity  and  food.  From  the  standpoint  of  main- 
taining one's  physical  youth,  with  all  that  this 
means  in  life,  a  food-exercise  equilibrium  is  the 
most  vital  factor.  The  majority  who  find  health 
slipping  at  forty,  overeat ;  the  minority  undereat ; 
in  both  cases  the  balance  has  been  broken. 

Work  and  Rest  Balance — The  love  of  ease  is 
instinctive,  a  protective  instinct,  for  the  human 


14     OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

mechanism  must  rest — that  there  may  be  health. 
Another  vital  balance  is  demanded — that  of  effort 
and  recuperation;  without  invigorating  effort, 
apathy,  sluggishness  and  weakness,  defective  re- 
sistance— and  finally  the  body  a  toxic  slough  of  in- 
activity !  Without  recuperation  deadening  weari- 
ness, exhaustion,  wreck  of  body  or  mind  must 
come.  So  fatigue  is  sent,  not  to  be  shunned,  but 
to  be  sought  with  the  certainty  that  each  meeting 
will  bring  earned  rest.  Fatigue  is  the  refresh- 
ment-promising friend  we  should  meet  each  day. 
When  we  know  him  well  he  will  guard  us  from 
our  enemy,  exhaustion,  and  to  know  him  well  is  to 
love  him.  " Honestly  tired"  is  his  other  name, 
and  his  friendship  makes  life  mightily  worth  liv- 
ing. There  are  many  who  confuse  fatigue  and 
exhaustion;  there  are  a  few  who  would  ignore 
them  both — the  overambitious,  the  habitual  wor- 
rier, the  victim  of  acute  mania,  these  all  sacrifice 
the  calm  of  poise  for  damaging  mental  or  physical 
overactivity.  The  saving  ease  is  the  product  of 
strength  and  fatigue,  not  having  which  we  travel 
the  pace  that  kills.  To  him  who  is  working,  think- 
ing and  feeling  right,  the  ease  of  relaxation  fol- 
lows effort,  even  as  the  echo  a  call. 

The  ease  of  a  perfect  night's  sleep — who  can 
voice  its  values?  Sympathy-breeding  converse, 
the  enjoyed  half -hour  at  the  table,  the  journey 
home  after  the  day's  well-done  work,  the  evening 
hour  with  books  that  refresh  and  instruct,  the 
delightfully  restoring  five  minutes'  relaxation  of 
mind  and  body — how  gloriously  invigorating! 
And  to  those  who  would  pilfer  unearned  ease,  how 


THREE  VITAL  FAULTS  15 

unsensed!  The  restless,  dissatisfied,  resentful, 
wretched  ones  are  those  who  would  know  ease, 
ignoring  fatigue,  for,  sooner  or  later,  in  this  gen- 
eration or  the  next,  man  pays  the  price  physically, 
mentally  or  spiritually.  He  climbs  from  where 
his  parents  must  leave  him  if  he  wins  any  heights. 
One  is  given  a  heritage  of  wealth;  another,  and 
blessed  be  the  name  of  those  who  begat  him,  is 
early  taught  the  habit  of  industry.  One  can  buy 
the  ease  which  breeds  stagnation ;  the  other  wins 
the  ease  which  represents  mastery.  But  mastery 
demands  strength — superstrength — and  super- 
strength  is  rare,  for  our  love  of  comfort  has  denied 
it  us ;  and  the  man  or  woman  who  is  daily  adding 
some  bit  of  new  strength  to  his  life's  equipment, 
resolutely  putting  something  into  the  storehouse 
for  the  future,  he  who  persistently  adds  some  frac- 
tion of  muscular  endurance,  mental  capacity  or 
spiritual  understanding  to  each  day's  duties,  is 
rare,  even  as  the  masterful  are  rare. 

The  millions  labor  and,  weary  and  spent,  dully 
wend  their  ways  homeward.  Something  to  stimu- 
late or  amuse  they  crave  almost  universally. 
These  millions  live  thru  their  working  years 
too  close  to  their  margins ;  in  no  part  of  their  life 
have  they  created  a  comfort-assuring  reserve,  and 
doggedly  they  live.  Stinted  in  interests,  their 
minds  are  unconsciously  hungry,  incapable  of  be- 
ing fed;  destitute  of  physical  reserve,  they  drag 
on,  with  tired  bodies,  and  pay  a  fearful  toll  to  dis- 
ease; without  visions,  their  souls  seldom  speak, 
and  life  for  them  is  restlessness  and  emptiness. 

"  Exhausted,"       "  worn-out,"       "  chronically 


16      OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

tired,"  "utterly  frazzled"!  How  often  we  hear 
such  complaints.  And  to  him  who  knows,  they  are 
usually  the  plaints  of  weakness,  rarely  the  cries 
of  strength  which  is  spent.  Many  men,  and  more 
women,  find  themselves  at  forty  restlessly,  fever- 
ishly seeking  the  comforts  that  disintegrate,  and 
as  resolutely  avoiding  effortful  thinking,  working, 
feeling,  which  alone  construct  the  strength  that 
makes  effort  joyous.  There  is  no  more  faithful 
servant  of  disease  than  the  mocking  ease  of  com- 
fort-seeking indolence. 

The  Cheer-Life — How  like  a  mirror  is  childhood, 
with  its  instant  reflection  of  the  pain  of  cherished 
pets,  the  moods  of  elders,  the  rebuffs  of  playmates. 
How  like  the  insistent  breaking  of  spring  sunshine 
thru  drifting  clouds  is  the  cheer  of  childhood, 
returning  so  quickly  after  pain,  punishment  or  re- 
buffs. And  what  a  dreary  habitat  would  be  man's 
were  it  not  for  the  cheer  of  children  and  of  those 
who  have  held  fast  to  undying  youth  and  its  glad- 
ness !  Addled  or  curdled  must  be  the  nature  which 
does  not  brighten  before  such  heartening  cheer. 
Of  one-hundred  adults  it  is  said  ninety-five  will  re- 
spond to  the  depressing  and  unhappiness-produc- 
ing  in  a  given  situation,  where  five  will  optimistic- 
ally see  the  best  in  the  worst.  This  proportion  is 
probably  inaccurate,  but  it  serves  to  remind  us 
that  there  are  far  more  gloom-producers,  fault- 
finding critics,  cynics,  pessimists,  habitual 
grouches,  calamity-howlers  and  woe-dispensers 
than  cheer-makers.  The  sad  souls  certainly  out- 
number those  whose  spiritual  natures  resolutely 
reflect  the  rich  fulness  of  the  joy-life  and  happi- 


THREE  VITAL  FAULTS  17 

ness-living.  The  miserable  majority  misplace 
cheer  with  childish  things  and  enter  maturity  as 
tho'  chained  to  their  tasks,  with  faces  averted  and 
eyes  downcast  and  no  glad  song  in  their  hearts, 
wailing  strains  of  their  dirge  out  of  time  and  out 
of  tune. 

What  evidence  have  we  of  untimely  aging  of 
the  spirit  so  obvious  as  the  dimming  of  the 
cheer-life?  Age  has  stricken  him  whose  ears 
do  not  thrill  in  response  to  the  glad  voices  of 
children,  whose  heart  does  not  leap  forth  to  greet 
the  hilarity  of  youth.  Many  homes  are  but  antic- 
ipatory tombs,  with  the  gloom-life  shut  in,  and  the 
glad-life  shut  out.  Even  the  young  must  age  in 
schools  and  offices,  in  shops  and  factories,  where 
gladsome  greetings,  cheering  responses,  witty 
sallies  and  mutual  help  and  buoyancy  are  smoth- 
ered in  a  joy-killing  atmosphere!  The  heavy 
hand  of  sorrow  and  misfortune  lays  sore  burdens 
on  too  many  hearts.  Death  and  disgrace  and 
disaster  come  to  agingly  touch  the  many  before 
maturity  is  well  spent.  Eare  and  beautiful 
and  heartening  is  the  spirit  that  meets  mis- 
fortune with  a  hallowing,  only,  of  the  cheer 
which  it  radiates!  Young  independence  claims 
its  right  to  grouch,  but  sour  moods  are  as 
definitely  toxic  as  sour  stomachs.  Millions  are 
spent  annually  upon  those  hired  to  assume  cheer, 
but  artificial  cheerfulness  is  the  shallow  response 
of  weak  natures  in  the  beautiful  seriousness  of 
life.  Genuine  cheer  is  not  of  the  face,  is  not  a 
mood,  is  not  a  concealing  pretense;  it  is  an  evi- 
dence of  youth  and  health  of  spirit — that  cheer 


18      OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

which  goes  not  a  few  leagues  but  the  whole  way. 
Three  faults  that  age  we  consider — toxin-breed- 
ers all :  one  hardening  the  arteries,  another  dulling 
the  mind,  the  last  chilling  the  soul. 


CHAPTER  III 
WHY  THE  BODY  FAILS 

Problem  of  Physical  Adjustment — As  we  con- 
sider life  in  its  multiple  forms,  from  the  micro- 
scopic single-celled  organism  to  the  highly  com- 
plex animal  with  his  billions  of  differentiated  cells, 
we  ultimately  realize  that  all  expressions  of  life 
are  simply  more  or  less  perfect  adjustments  of  the 
individual  to  his  manifold  and  varying  surround- 
ings. These  adjustments  may  be  practically  per- 
fect for  the  few,  but  with  the  majority  of  indi- 
viduals perfection  is  a  far  call.  In  a  forest  of 
oaks  a  few  attain  perfect  symmetry  of  proportion 
and  spread  and  tower,  finely  superior  to  their 
hundred  neighbors.  In  a  row  of  nodding,  beaming 
sunflowers  there  seems  always  the  one  specimen 
which  has  distinctly  distanced  its  companions.  In 
a  fountain-basin  stocked  with  fish  there  will  ever 
be  one  or  two  which  outgrow  and  outlive  the 
others.  The  one  or  two  have  more  perfectly  ap- 
propriated oxygen  and  utilized  food,  and  have 
thus  developed  the  aggressive  capacity  to  secure 
the  wherewithal  for  more  strength. 

Even  as  with  trees  and  flowers  and  fish  so  it 
is  with  folks.  The  exceptional  man  or  woman 
shows  superior  vital  capacity  as  expressed  in  free- 
dom from  illness,  unusual  power  of  mind  or  body, 

19 


20     OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

a  prolonged  life  of  comfortable  years,  or  rare  ease 
in  meeting  and  mastering  the  multitude  of  life's 
problems.  The  exceptional  tree,  flower,  fish,  man, 
has  been  associated  in  each  instance  with  others 
who  in  comparison  have  failed,  more  or  less,  in 
finding  an  equal  fulness  of  living.  Superiority  of 
germ  plasm  unquestionably  answers  the  query 
why,  for  many  exceptions.  Yet  the  seeds  of  the 
most  magnificent  sunflower  planted  in  barren  soil 
will  fail  to  reproduce  its  hereditary  supremacy, 
while  the  seeds  from  some  pale,  dwarfed  specimen 
will  respond  promptly  to  the  ministrations  of  the 
wise  gardener,  and  attain  magnificence  in  a  few 
short  generations.  The  problem  is  much  simpler 
for  folks  than  for  sunflowers.  The  necessity  of 
remaining  rooted  in  barren  soil  is  laid  only  upon 
a  defective,  small  minority.  The  rest  of  us  can 
move  to  other  soil  or  enrich  the  soil  in  which  we 
are  living. 

Failure  of  body,  the  failure  we  call  age,  indicates 
always  that  the  balance  between  the  vital  organs 
and  the  work  thrown  upon  these  organs  is  break- 
ing. And,  let  us  here  note  a  vital  truth — the  work 
which  most  rapidly  ages  us  is  not  that  which  duty 
and  progress  lay  upon  us,  but  the  vast,  useless 
labor  of  our  eliminative  organs  in  keeping  our 
systems  freed  from  self -produced  poisons;  or  the 
unceasing  struggle  of  our  minds  with  anxious  wor- 
ries; or  the  soul's  failure  to  find  a  blessing  faith. 
For  us  all  this  balance  cannot  be  indefinitely  main- 
tained, but  for  nine-tenths  of  humanity  it  can,  thru 
right  use  and  protection,  be  prolonged  thru  many 
added  years.  Rarely  do  we  meet  a  cripple  in 


WHY  THE  BODY  FAILS  21 

whose  face  shines  the  vigor  of  wholesome  health. 
We  expect  him  to  be  sallow  and  poorly  nourished, 
and  relatively  short-lived.  He  is  unable  to  per- 
fectly meet  the  requirements  of  physical  living 
which  maintain  the  balance  between  vitality  and 
work.  The  physical  activities  of  the  tuberculous 
sufferer  must  be  most  rigidly  safeguarded  when 
the  lungs,  vital  organs,  are  affected.  One  so  dis- 
eased is  practically  decrepit  and,  like  those  in  ad- 
vanced age,  goes  down  under  a  finger's  weight  of 
unwise  strain.  And  so  it  is  with  victims  of  or- 
ganically damaged  hearts.  The  dyspeptic  and 
the  neurotic — there  are  multitudes  of  these — are 
practically  prematurely  old.  In  them  the  vital  or- 
gans or  the  nervous  system  are  failing  to  carry 
the  load  which  the  owner's  method  of  life  has  laid 
upon  them. 

Oft-times  an  understanding  of  a  defect  suggests 
the  remedy ;  but  there  have  been  false  remedies  for 
mankind's  ills  past  any  possibility  of  cataloging. 
To-day  the  pharmacist's  shelves  are  cluttered  with 
bottles  and  boxes,  salves,  pills  and  lotions  to  cure 
our  sicknesses.  Thousands  upon  thousands  of 
men  and  women  spend  their  lives  in  the  varied 
and  manifold  druggings  and  rubbings,  feedings, 
bathings  and  operatings — that  the  sick  may  be 
cured;  not  to  mention  the  suggestors  and  profes- 
sional prayers  for  health  and  prolongation  of  days. 
In  principle,  we  find  that  this  intricate  array  of 
remedies  and  remediators  can  be  surprisingly 
simplified.  Failure  of  body  can  be  met  by  only 
two  possible  rational  adjustments.  First,  the  load 
may  be  lightened,  the  surroundings  simplified. 


22     OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

This  is  the  method  almost  universally  suggested 
by  both  lay  and  medical  advisers.  Oddly,  we 
don't  treat  our  sunflower  so.  When  we  want  it  to 
thrive,  we  enrich  its  soil,  increase  its  sunshine, 
water  it  more  freely  and  thereby  quadruple  its 
work.  For  the  sunflower,  we  instinctively  realize 
that  while  we  can  do  much  to  helpfully  modify  its 
surroundings,  the  plant  within  its  own  cells  must 
work  out  its  own  salvation.  This  thought  leads 
us  directly  to  the  second  means  of  maintaining  the 
balance  which  stands  for  normal  living — the 
methods  to  be  emphasized  in  the  following  pages, 
methods  which  demand  the  individual's  increase  in 
vital  capacity.  All  that  the  most  complex  medica- 
tion and  health  regimen  can  do  for  emperor  or 
pauper  is  to  relieve  the  burden  under  which  the 
individual  struggles,  or  to  increase  the  individual's 
power  to  successfully  carry  his  burden. 

Most  of  us  are  living  sadly  underpower,  and 
most  of  us  unnaturally  age  in  body,  mind,  or  spirit 
because  we  so  live.  Living  underpower  results 
from  misuse  or  disuse  of  our  bodies.  How  rare 
the  individual  who  utilizes  his  strength  to  its  daily 
full  efficiency — and  is  proud  in  so  doing!  Few 
realize  the  tremendous  capacity  the  healthy,  de- 
veloped body  possesses  for  productive  effort. 
Our  ears  are  so  constantly  assailed  with:  "I 
can't,"  ''I'm  not  able,"  "Doctor  told  me  to  be 
careful,"  "I  never  could  use  my  back — it  was  my 
mother's  weakness,  too,"  "I'm  afraid  it  will  give 
me  a  headache,"  "My  nerves  won't  stand  it,"  and 
the  rest  of  the  tedious  wail,  that  it  would  seem  the 
generations  of  those  to  whom  work  is  a  joy  and 


WHY  THE  BODY  FAILS  23 

who  find  in  daily  toil  the  soul-deepening  satisfac- 
tion of  right  living  has  been  wiped  out. 

Defective  Oxidation — To  maintain  a  healthy,  de- 
veloped body  in  its  comfort  of  strength  is  quite 
simple.  The  few  essentials  are  an  ample  supply 
of  oxygen,  adequate  foods  of  simple  quality,  and 
the  absence  of  externally  or  internally  produced 
poisons.  The  cities  are  crowded  with  shallow 
breathers,  while  even  in  the  country  far  too  many 
flat,  even  hollow,  chests  are  evident.  Many  men 
and  more  women  so  rarely  fully  expand  their 
lungs  that  their  chests  are  sore  after  the  unwonted 
effort,  and  they  think  they  have  done  themselves 
damage.  In  America,  especially,  months  are 
spent  in  overheated  rooms  and  multitudes  dread 
the  breathing  of  cold  air,  with  the  result  that  pneu- 
monia ominously  increases  while  the  vigorous  anti- 
tuberculosis  crusade  has  but  mitigated  the  relent- 
less White  Plague.  We  are,  however,  speaking  of 
the  more  superficial  aspect  of  deep  breathing. 
The  real  value  of  oxygen  is  for  the  tissues  of  the 
body — the  blood,  brain,  muscles,  glands.  The 
highest  activities  of  the  liver,  for  instance,  are 
only  possible  with  an  ample  supply  of  oxygen. 
And  there  can  be  little  question  that  deficiency  of 
oxygen  in  the  tissues  is  the  most  potent  single 
chemical  cause  of  premature  old  age.  Technic- 
ally, this  is  spoken  of  as  suboxidation — a  subject 
which  will  merit  our  frequent  reference. 

We  should  all  understand  the  underlying  prin- 
ciples of  the  body's  use  of  its  foods.  Practically 
all  of  these  must  undergo  involved  chemical 
changes  before  they  can  be  absorbed  and  enter  the 


24     OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

circulation,  which  carries  nutriment  to  the  tissues. 
Ordinary  milk,  for  instance,  must  first  be  curdled 
in  the  stomach  by  rennin,  thus  separating  the  dif- 
ferent elements  of  which  it  is  composed.  The 
gastric  juices  later  digest  these  curds,  transform- 
ing them  into  a  sour,  bitter  fluid  called  peptone,  a 
fluid  almost  offensive  to  taste  and  smell,  yet  the 
foundation  of  nutrition.  The  fats,  sugars  and 
starches  also  pass  thru  diverse  changes  before 
they  are  ready  to  be  utilized  by  the  tissues.  All 
these  foods,  after  digestion,  are  absorbed  and  car- 
ried by  the  blood  and  lymph  to  the  microscopic 
tissue-cells.  The  bulk  of  these  is  a  very  wonderful 
substance  called  protoplasm,  a  complex  jelly-like 
material  which  is,  in  fact,  a  marvelous  chemical 
laboratory.  Protoplasm  absorbs  the  food  brought 
to  it,  and  also  takes  up  oxygen  from  the  red  blood 
cells.  The  food  and  oxygen  if  properly  balanced 
now  combine  to  liberate  energy.  If  chemically 
balanced,  this  combination  is  perfect,  otherwise  it 
is  defective.  As  is  the  health  of  our  billions  of 
body  cells,  so  is  the  health  of  the  individual.  The 
exigencies  of  life  are  such  that  this  balance  must 
often  be  temporarily  imperfect;  then  poisonous 
products  are  formed.  The  never  sleeping  kidneys 
and  the  vigilant  four-pound  liver  can  take  care  of 
a  large  amount  of  food-poisons  due  to  overfeeding 
or  underexercising,  and  so  long  as  they  are  able 
to  protect  the  system  from  accumulations  of  such 
toxins,  the  individual  may  be  considered  well,  even 
in  the  face  of  years  of  unwise  habits. 

Subacidosis — Sometimes  thru  two,  or  even  three, 
generations  the  liver  and  kidneys  ward  off  mer- 


.WHY  THE  BODY  FAILS  25 

ited  damage.  But  no  matter  how  great  the  vital- 
ity of  the  parent  stock,  son  or  grandson,  assuredly 
great-grandson,  will  pay  the  penalty.  No  com- 
putometer  can  reveal  the  damage  done  to  the 
human  family  from  the  poisons  of  unmerited  eat- 
ing. When  food-oxidation  becomes  defective,  def- 
inite chemical  irritants  circulate  in  the  system  to 
impair  the  efficiency  of  the  tissues,  to  reduce  the 
body's  reserve  of  vitality.  A  certain  percentage 
of  alkalinity  is  a  vital  necessity ;  a  small  degree  of 
positive  acidity  means  rapid  death.  To  prevent 
such  a  possibility,  the  healthy  body  carries  an  ; 
ample  reserve  of  alkaline,  or,  more  chemically 
speaking,  basic  salts.  In  these  days  of  overeating 
and  underoxidation  thousands  are  being  damaged 
because  of  their  lessened  alkaline  reserve,  a  con- 
dition more  scientifically  termed,  subacidosis. 
And  from  the  laboratory  standpoint  subacidosis 
is  for  humanity  a  too  frequent  yet  largely  re- 
movable producer  of  early  old  age. 

The  body  misused  thru  unwise  feeding  expresses 
its  resentment  in  a  long  list  of  ills.  Trouble  be- 
gins early  as  in  cholera  infantum  and  the  scurvy 
of  infancy.  The  very  common  constipation, 
chronic  indigestion  and  even  appendicitis,  have 
been  charged  to  this  account.  Unquestionably, 
several  of  the  skin  diseases,  as  acne,  psoriasis  and 
eczema,  with  many  cases  of  anaemia,  the  incurable 
cirrhosis  of  the  liver  and  the  gruesomely  fatal 
Bright 's  disease,  are  likewise  produced.  The  same 
error  is  probably  the  soil  in  which  incapacitating 
rheumatism,  offensive  pyorrhea  and  most  gall- 
stones have  their  origin.  Nutritional  sins  also  in- 


\ 


26      OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

fhience  unquestionably  disturbances  of  the  thyroid 
gland  and  are  behind  most  cases  of  nervousness 
and  much  insanity.  Hardening  of  the  arteries, 
with  its  long  list  of  fatal  and  aging  effects,  includ- 
ing paralysis,  angina  pectoris  and  certain  forms 
of  softening  of  the  brain,  are,  without  question, 
penalties  we  pay  for  misuse  of  foods.  The  vi- 
ciousness  of  auto-intoxication,  as  this  self-poison- 
Fing  is  called,  is  unmitigated. 

Protection  is  certainly  superior  to  abuse,  but 
right  use  is  infinitely  superior  to  both.  Use  is  the 
law  underlying  the  perfect  health  of  all  tissues. 
But  even  in  face  of  the  vivid  revelations  of  the 
Great  War,  ours  is  still  a  nation  of  underused 
bodies.  Muscular  tissue  forms  the  bulk  of  our 
physical  selves.  The  muscles  of  athletes  and  the 
millions  who  earn  their  bread  by  physical  strength 
utilize  these  pounds  of  flesh  as  furnaces  in  which 
carbon  and  oxygen  combine  to  form  power,  energy 
and  vitality.  It  is  only  by  active  use  of  muscles 
that  we  truly  breathe.  We  may  take  deep  breath- 
ing exercises  until  we  are  giddy  with  oxygen  in- 
toxication and  increase  but  a  small  fraction  the 
total  amount  of  oxygen  in  the  body  tissues.  Put 
the  muscles  to  work  and  the  demand  for  deep 
breathing  is  instant,  the  kind  of  deep  breathing 
that  sends  invigorating  health-supplying  oxygen 
to  every  recess  of  the  body,  adding  to  the  vital 
activity  of  each  cell.  The  heart  and  vessels,  the 
stomach  and  intestines  and  many  glands  contain 
muscular  tissue  which  can  only  be  exercised  in- 
directly. We  can  command  our  leg  muscles  to 
jump  us  up  and  down  until  they  are  wearied.  Our 


WHY  THE  BODY  FAILS  27 

heart  muscle  is  oblivious,  beating  calmly  on  in  the 
face  of  our  commands,  but  note  its  action  after  a 
minute  of  vigorous  use  of  leg  muscles — it  has 
doubled  its  activity  and  thus,  thru  the  voluntary, 
we  exercise  the  involuntary. 

Give  the  body  sufficient  muscular  use  and  thru 
perfect  oxidation  few  toxins  will  be  produced  and 
many  of  these  will  be  promptly  neutralized.  So 
with  intelligent  use  the  body  is  largely  relieved 
from  the  threat  of  auto-intoxication.  This  being 
so,  muscular  underuse,  the  almost  universal 
temptation  of  well-to-do  maturity  in  man,  and  of 
late  adolescence  in  women,  is  the  most  damaging 
misuse  that  can  open  the  door  to  old  age  at  forty. 

Physically  speaking,  therefore,  premature  old 
age  is  a  result  of  auto-intoxication,  or  suboxida- 
tion,  or,  more  frequently,  of  a  combination  of  both. 
There  is  another  cause  which,  with  our  present 
knowledge,  may  be  regarded  as  accidental.  This 
results  from  the  various  infectious  diseases :  scar- 
let fever,  typhoid,  syphilis,  tuberculosis,  chronic 
absorption  of  septic  matter  from  unrecognized 
sources,  as  apparently  healthy  teeth  and  tonsils. 
But  medical  science  is  making  rapid  strides  in  its 
understanding  of  all  germ-produced  diseases  and 
has  already  added  several  years  to  the  average 
length  of  life  by  its  advancing  mastery  over  diph- 
theria, typhoid,  yellow  fever  and  other  infections. 


CHAPTER  IV 
FOOD  THAT  WRECKS 

Food  Facts — The  body  continues  to  live  because 
it  is  constantly  being  supplied  with  oxygen  and 
food.  The  body  is  aptly  referred  to  as  a  most  per- 
fect engine  for  converting  oxygen  and  carbon  into 
heat  and  energy,  which  it  does  with  far  less  waste 
than  any  machine  of  man's  making.  Moreover, 
the  marvelous  principle  of  life  appropriates  mate- 
rials from  the  outer  world  for  producing  a  life- 
time of  saving  heat  and  an  enormous  output  of 
energy.  It  accumulates  substance  for  years  of 
body-growth,  and  thruout  its  days  provides  a 
reserve  for  the  prompt  replacement  of  worn-out 
material.  In  a  most  remarkable  degree  the  body 
is  self-developing  and  self-repairing.  We  all 
realize  that  of  the  elements  taken  into  the  human 
system,  oxygen  is  the  most  vital.  Without  it,  in 
a  few  minutes  life  ceases  to  be.  Food  is  a  close 
second.  Even  for  the  strong  man — a  limited  num- 
ber of  foodless  days  and  he  is  lifeless. 

Viewed  from  the  pleasure  standpoint,  Nature's 
liberality  and  man's  genius  have  provided  an  al- 
most unending  list  of  new  and  gratifying  dishes  to 
stimulate,  and  keep  gustatory  pleasures  unsated. 
Thanks  to  Nature's  tolerance  and  the  average  per- 
son's reserve  of  vitality,  it  is  possible  for  the  many 

28 


POOD  THAT  WRECKS  29 

to  overindulge  in  food,  or  to  adapt  themselves  year 
after  year  to  foods  which  are  largely  poison-pro- 
ducing. For  many  generations  early  man's  food- 
supply  was  precarious,  and  our  aborigines'  eating- 
life  was  largely  a  matter  of  food  and  famine. 
Thereby,  for  the  race  a  large  tolerance  to  ex- 
cess was  developed,  a  tolerance  which  to-day  ex- 
plains the  ability  of  the  average  person  to 
eat  unwisely  wtih  apparent  immunity  for  many 
years.  The  mystery  of  continuous  generations  ap- 
proximating a  standard,  the  uninterrupted  repro- 
duction thruout  ages  of  kind  by  its  kind,  has 
been  explained  in  part  by  the  theory  of  germ- 
plasm.  Into  the  original  cells,  from  which  the  in- 
dividual is  to  be  created,  has  been  placed  an  ele- 
ment which  determines  the  species — the  form,  size, 
color  and  numerous  qualities  of  the  offspring, 
qualities  absolute,  which  no  act  of  his  can  radically 
modify.  The  stature  of  any  one  of  us,  whether  we 
shall  attain  four-feet-six  or  six-feet-four,  can  be 
but  moderately  influenced  by  over  or  underfeeding. 
Still  scientific  feeding  will  gradually,  within  lim- 
itations, improve  the  individual,  and  generations 
of  scientific  feeding,  with  balanced  exercise,  will 
work  wonders  in  the  perfection  of  growth. 

Deep,  thrillingly  deep,  as  science  has  entered  in- 
to the  intricacies  of  life,  the  complex,  delicate 
chemistry  of  the  human  body  still  hides  many  un- 
solved mysteries.  An  immense  amount  of  tedious 
and  complicated  investigation  faces  the  physio- 
logic chemist  with  problems  as  profound  and 
baffling  as  have  yet  been  unravelled,  before  we  can 
understand  clearly,  step  by  step,  the  changes  in- 


30      OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

tervening  between  the  morsel  of  bacon  and  the 
substance  of  the  muscle-cell,  between  a  crumb  of 
bread  and  a  poet's  dream.  Unhappily,  this  realm 
of  the  unknown  leaves  the  way  open  for  a  large 
variety  of  personal  opinions,  for  more  or  less 
shrewd  guesses  or  physiologic  theories.  Hence 
we  find  a  variety  of  schools  proclaiming  that  this 
is  fit  to  eat  and  that  is  not;  teachers  advocating 
unlimited  use  of  juicy  rare  beef;  others  classing 
beef,  tobacco  and  alcohol  in  one  villainous  group. 
Vegetarianism  is  rife;  while  diets  of  grapes  or 
buttermilk  or  nuts  or  raw  eggs  are  advocated  as 
the  only  way  of  life.  These  various  schools  of 
eating,  with  the  woeful  chorus  of  dyspeptics  and 
the  flaming,  ubiquitous  advertisement  of  tablets 
and  elixirs  guaranteed  to  make  eating  safe,  pro- 
claim the  fact  that  multitudes  have  solved  their 
digestive  problems  poorly. 

Very  much  of  exact  knowledge,  however,  is  pos- 
sessed by  our  wise  men,  sufficient  in  fact  to  suc- 
i  cessfully  direct  the  great  majority  of  the  wrongly 
;  fed  to  health.  The  following  principles  should  be 
as  much  a  part  of  the  mental  equipment  of  the  in- 
telligent individual  as  the  multiplication  table. 
There  is  undoubtedly  an  unfortunate  minority  for 
whom  a  little  learning  is  dangerous,  but  as  a  rule 
the  emphasis  is  so  markedly  on  the  " little"  and 
so  slight  on  the  " learning"  that  we  accept  them 
as  practically  all  emotionalists  and  not  rational 
thinkers.  It  is  with  them,  for  instance,  the  large 
element  of  fear,  not  their  limited  knowledge  of 
the  danger  of  proteid  decomposition,  which  makes 
them  sure  that  ominous  ailments  lurk  in  raw  eggs. 


FOOD  THAT  WBECKS  31 

The  Value  and  Danger  of  Proteins — Years  ago 
investigators  were  able  to  reduce  man's  ten  thou- 
sand foods  to  four  classes — the  proteins,  the  fats, 
the  sugars  and  starches — termed  the  carbohyd- 
rates— and  the  minerals.  A  sixteen  course  ban- 
quet, with  viands  from  the  far  ends  of  the  earth, 
consists  chemically  of  but  these  four  groups,  even 
as  does  a  bowl  of  bread  and  milk.  The  bulk  of  the 
body  is  water,  most  of  the  balance  is  protein. 
This  substance  is  absolutely  necessary  to  make 
tissues  such  as  brain,  muscle  and  glands.  There 
can  be  little  growth  without  protein,  while  the  re- 
pair and  replacement  of  tissue  following  use  and 
injury  depends  on  protein.  Heat  and  energy  can 
also  be  derived  from  this  most  important  food- 
group.  So  were  we  unfortunately  limited  to  a 
single  food-element,  the  protein  would  be  our  wise 
choice.  Nature  has  distributed  it  well.  Lean 
meats  from  all  sources  are  rich  in  protein,  as  are 
also  peas  and  beans.  A  large  amount  is  found  in 
eggs,  and  in  much  of  the  solid  elements  of  milk, 
especially  in  the  different  forms  of  cheese.  Much 
smaller  percentages  occur  in  cereals,  whole  wheat 
flour  containing  much  more  than  white  flour,  while 
there  are  small  amounts  in  fruits  and  nuts. 

Among  civilized  nations  to-day,  the  abuse, 
through  overuse,  of  the  proteins  is  probably  the 
most  aggravated,  damaging  eating  habit,  hasten- 
ing the  steps  of  old  age.  An  awakening  to  this 
danger  is  unquestionably  occurring,  but  unfor- 
tunately there  are  many  anti-meat  food-cranks 
whose  rantings  the  conservative  will  merely  ig- 
nore. The  question  must,  however,  have  two 


32      OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

sides;  let  us  reasonably  look  at  them  both.  Pro- 
tein is  essential  to  growth.  Nature  is  not  a  vege- 
tarian ;  she  gives  the  new-born  baby  four  per  cent, 
protein,  no  matter  what  the  baby's  mother  eats, 
and  without  that  four  per  cent,  the  baby  cannot 
thrive — four,  however,  not  forty !  And  for  many 
years,  if  the  child  is  to  grow,  if  stature  and  brain 
and  vital  organs  are  to  increase,  protein  from 
some  source  must  be  obtained.  Moreover,  if  the 
individual  lives  on  through  his  life-time  a  muscle- 
worker,  a  certain  amount  of  protein  must  be  taken 
daily  to  make  good  the  wear  and  tear  of  physical 
labor.  So,  the  logger,  the  farmer,  the  athlete,  the 
hod-carrier,  the  smith,  the  miner  and  the  locomo- 
tive fireman,  the  hunter,  the  able-bodied  seaman — 
the  active  muscle-worker,  wherever  found,  needs 
and  utilizes,  in  fact,  practically  depends  on  a  diet 
with  considerable  meat  or  some  other  form  of  this 
valuable  food-element.  Let  us  reduce  it  all  to  a 
sentence.  Protein,  after  maturity,  is  essentially  a 
muscle-worker's  food,  but  a  menace  to  the  brain 
worker  and  the  physically  inactive.  Science  and 
death  certificates  are  saying,  with  increasing 
emphasis :  In  the  sweat  of  thy  face  shalt  thou  eat 
meat. 

The  large  majority  of  the  readers  of  this  book 
are  not  earners  of  protein — they  are  brain-work- 
ers ;  and  within  these  pages  there  will  be  few  more 
constructive  truths  than  that  the  food-needs  of 
brain-workers  and  muscle-workers  are  distinctly 
different.  After  growth  is  attained,  practically 
all  women,  and  ninety-five  per  cent,  of  profes- 
sional, business  and  clerical  men  should  definitely 


FOOD  THAT  WRECKS  33 

, 

restrict  their  use  of  foods  rich  in  protein.  In- 
creased physical  efficiency,  clarity  and  accuracy  of 
thought,  comfort  of  moods,  and  in  a  large  sense 
peace  and  good-will,  result  from  such  a  wise  re- 
duction. Quite  comparable  are  the  changes  to 
those  which  follow  the  relinquishing  of  unneeded 
alcohol  or  tobacco.  In  our  land  the  damage  to  life 
and  efficiency  from  proteid  intoxication  is  un- 
questionably much  in  excess  of  that  arising  from 
alcoholic  abuse.  Examples  in  every  neighborhood 
illustrating  this  claim  stand  in  evidence.  Farm- 
ers' wives  throng  our  insane  asylums — not  pri- 
marily because  of  remoteness  from  neighbors,  but 
as  the  result  of  the  brain-damaging  effects  of  a 
continuous  diet  which,  while  giving  their  husbands 
strength  and  vitality  and  large  energy  and  health 
— the  husbands  who  labor  from  dawn  to  dusk — is 
a  diet  too  proteid-rich  for  their  much  lighter  fem- 
inine activities.  Many  thousands  of  successful  men 
financially,  professionally,  artistically,  started 
life  at  the  bottom.  They  worked  in  shop,  store, 
on  farm  or  in  warehouse.  They  labored  with 
their  muscles  long  hours  for  years.  At  forty  they 
are  bankers,  ministers,  lawyers,  editors,  photog- 
raphers, office  men,  merchants,  stockbrokers,  finan- 
ciers— using  now  brain  and  nerves  much,  and 
muscles  as  little  as  possible.  For  all  such  lives 
the  threat  of  early  and  disorganizing  damage  to 
the  vital  processes  is  held  back  by  the  integrity  of 
two  kidneys  and  one  liver.  Subacidosis  creeps  in, 
efficiency  and  health  slip  away,  and  age  is  upon 
us  ere  youth  is  well  past. 

The  day  is  at  hand  when  lack  of  intelligence  will 


34     OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

no  longer  unnecessarily  curtail  lives;  defective 
wills  alone  are  to  be  responsible.  While  science 
has  increased  the  average  length  of  life  several 
years,  this  gain  has  been  in  saving  those  under 
thirty.  Even  so,  statistics  reveal  the  alarming 
fact  that  the  life  expectancy  for  successful  men 
over  forty  has  dropped  several  years  during  the 
last  generation.  Proteid  abuse,  unhappily,  an- 
swers the  "Why  this  untimely  failure?"  in  the 
health  of  thousands  of  useful  men  and  women. 

Use  and  Misuse  of  Fats — Proteins,  fats  and 
carbo-hydrates  may  all  be  utilized  in  our  body- 
furnace  to  produce  and  approximate  the  98.6° 
temperature  so  necessary  to  health  and  indeed  to 
continuance  of  life.  Chilly  days  normally  increase 
our  need  for  richer  diet ;  still,  it  is  a  common  ex- 
perience to  overuse  greasy  foods  even  in  hot 
weather.  Whale  blubber — practically  pure  fat — 
is  the  Eskimo's  ideal  of  delectable  food.  He 
needs  it  that  he  may  generate  heat  to  make  toler- 
able his  Arctic  zeros,  as  well  as  to  wrap  his  sensory 
nerve  endings  in  a  protective,  comfort-lending  in- 
sulation of  fat.  The  explorer  north  or  south  of  the 
polar  circles  wisely  provides  himself  with  pemmi- 
can — a  mixture  containing  a  large  proportion  of 
fat.  A  good  covering  of  adipose  is  usually  equal 
to  an  average  overcoat  by  day  or  blanket  by  night, 
and  is  truly  for  anyone  a  conserver  of  body  heat. 

Oddly,  our  miracle-working  chemical  selves  are 
able,  when  properly  acting,  to  convert  any  of  the 
food  elements  into  a  reserve  of  fat — a  reserve 
which,  in  moderation,  not  only  stands  for  normal 
digestive  activity  and  a  thrifty  reserve  of  energy, 


FOOD  THAT  WRECKS  35 

but  contributes  to  our  symmetry  and  appearance. 

There  are  many  striking  exceptions  to  the  gen- 
eral rule  that  the  underweights  and  the  over- 
weights, both,  are  deficient  in  vitality.  Still,  in- 
surance companies  are  very  strict  in  the  matter  of 
a  reasonable  nearness  of  their  applicants  to  the 
standard  relation  of  weight  to  height.  Most  of  us 
worry  our  dear  mothers  in  our  early  days  because 
we  are  "too  thin,"  while  by  forty  we  are  distress- 
ing ourselves  or  our  husbands  because  we  are  "too 
stout."  Two  reasons  explain  most  of  childhood's 
slenderness:  youthful  activity  and  defective  fat 
digestion.  We  find  that  few  children  are  system- 
atically taught  to  utilize  the  fatty  foods.  In  fact, 
fat  indigestion  remains  common  during  the  life- 
time of  many,  thru  digestive  injuries  caused  in 
youth  by  excess  of  grease,  and  specially  by  the 
use  of  overheated  grease  in  the  preparation  of 
their  foods. 

Among  the  more  commonly  used  fatty  foods  are 
lard,  butter,  and  their  many  substitutes,  cream,  all 
fat  meats,  olive-oil,  salad  oil,  most  nuts  and  the 
yolk  of  eggs.  Fats  are  the  richest  of  all  eatables, 
weight  for  weight  possessing  nearly  twice  the  food 
value  of  either  of  the  other  groups.  They  are  not 
digested  in  the  stomach,  and  their  misuse  is  one  of 
the  commonest  sources  of  intestinal  indigestion. 
Certain  forms  of  fat,  especially  those  derived  from 
the  hog,  and  certainly  all  fats  when  their  acids 
have  been  produced  by  overheating  thru  ignorant 
cooking,  are  extremely  difficult  for  the  average 
digestion.  Their  use,  however,  greatly  facilitates 
and  simplifies  the  art  of  much  cooking  and  unques- 


36     OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

tionably  adds  to  the  toothsomeness  and  crispness 
of  many  dishes.  The  heavier  greases  are  fit  only 
for  the  rugged  digestion  of  sturdy  men  who  work 
exposed  and  require  quantities  of  heat-producing 
food.  For  milady  and  her  children  and  for 
milady's  husband  and  for  the  majority  of  modern 
men,  foods  which  have  been  saturated  with  hot 
grease,  whether  commonly  fried  or  more  aristo- 
cratically sautes,  are  regularly  eaten  only  with 
risk.  Many  men  and  women,  even  some  whose 
occupations  demand  much  activity,  remain  thin 
and  undernourished,  semi-anaemic,  dyspeptic, 
pessimistic  victims  of  the  lard  bucket.  Pork 
therefore  becomes  scientifically  the  laboring  man's 
food,  and  the  digestive  integrity  of  multitudes  of 
children  is  to-day  being  threatened  by  unwise  use 
of  this  rich,  highly  organized  fat-proteid  combina- 
tion. The  overuse  of  fats  as  related  to  the  body's 
need  for  such  food,  disturbs  both  stomach  and  in- 
testinal digestion,  makes  possible  the  decomposi- 
tion of  proteins  and  the  fermentation  of  starches. 
It  is  the  wrong  use  of  them  which  has  decided  for 
millions  a  life-time  of  thinness,  lowered  vitality 
and  badly  discounted  physical  reserve.  The 
detrimental  action  of  tardily  digested  fats  on  the 
chemical  changes  of  other  food  groups  is  the  un- 
doubted cause  of  much  subacidosis. 

The  Value  of  Sugars  and  Starches — While  all 
foods  may  be  utilized  for  the  production  of  energy, 
the  muscular  system  is  truly  the  body's  dynamo 
where  food  and  oxygen  are  converted  into  thrill- 
ing, pulsating,  usable  force.  A  healthy  muscular 
system  is  actually  the  body's  vitality  producer. 


FOOD  THAT  WRECKS  37 

When  in  condition  it  is  able  to  utilize  all  whole- 
some foods,  no  matter  what  their  type.  But  how 
few  of  us  have  kept  our  energy  producers  in  order ! 
How  exceptional  is  the  muscularly  developed  man ; 
how  rare  the  well-muscled  woman — even  in  early 
maturity!  How  very  unusual  to  find  snappy 
muscles  in  early  old  age !  The  large  majority  al- 
low this  force-producing  dynamo  to  soon  fall  into 
practical  disuse.  Still,  into  our  bodies  goes,  day 
after  day,  pound  after  pound  of  unused  food — un- 
used because  of  our  idle,  flabby,  sedentary  muscles. 
The  sugars  and  starches  are  the  most  simply  ap- 
propriated by  the  healthy  body,  and  the  adult  who 
uses  his  muscles  right  each  day,  even  for  but  a 
short  time,  will  probably,  while  living  on  a  diet 
consisting  largely  of  carbohydrates,  most  nearly 
approximate  that  ideal  of  mechanics — a  perfect 
internal  combustion-engine.  Most  completely  will 
he  oxidize  and  utilize  all  he  eats,  with  the  minimum 
of  harmful  residue. 

There  is  a  large  choice  of  the  carbohydrates :  the 
cereals,  especially  wheat,  corn,  rice,  oats,  barley; 
many  vegetables,  including  Irish  potatoes,  turnips 
and  parsnips,  are  examples  of  the  starches.  All 
forms  of  sugar,  honey,  many  fruits,  especially 
grapes,  bananas,  figs  and  dates,  with  certain  veg- 
etables, as  beets  and  sweet  potatoes,  illustrate  the 
sugars.  Properly  prepared,  these  groups  offer 
the  most  quickly  utilized  form  of  energy  known  in 
the  realm  of  foods.  For  thousands  of  years 
sweets  were  rare  and  the  race  developed  a  strong, 
inherited  desire  for  them.  This  is  shown  in  the 
so-called  " instinct  for  sweets,"  so  common  in 


38      OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

children.  And  wreckage  lurks  in  the  seduction  of 
the  unnumbered  "  goodies "  with  which  all  too 
many  children  are  fed,  to  the  exclusion  of  simpler 
and  safer  foods.  Excess  of  sweets  tends  to  acetic 
acid  fermentation;  and  many  sour  stomachs  are 
literally  vinegar  saturated.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  reasonable  use  of  "sweetening"  is,  for  those 
who  are  living  normally,  a  wholesome  addition  to 
the  diet.  But  to  allow  children  to  eat  their  full 
of  candies,  pies,  cakes,  preserves,  molasses-satur- 
ated biscuit  or  grease-soaked,  syrup-dripping 
griddle-cakes  is  to  early  sow  the  seeds  of  digestive 
debility  which  so  often  in  later  years  brings  forth 
a  crop  of  life-shortening  disorders. 

The  value  of  properly  cooked  starches  as  the 
bulk  of  the  brain- worker's  diet  is  as  yet  unrecog- 
nized by  the  majority.  The  most  healthy  man  of 
fifty  known  to  the  writer,  a  professional  man  of 
large  interests,  states  that  the  bulk  of  his  diet  is 
Irish  potatoes,  and  as  these  can  be  prepared  in  two 
hundred  different  ways  he  never  lacks  variety, 
though  he  prefers  them  baked.  This  man's  hered- 
ity was  not  good,  his  start  as  a  boy  was  poor.  He 
early  realized  the  common  damage  of  unwise  eat- 
ing. In  simple,  rational  food  he  has  found  rare 
health. 

The  starches  ferment  easily  and  produce  con- 
siderable gas.  This  is  harmless  and  perfectly 
natural  and  infinitely  safer  than  the  putrefactive 
changes  common  in  an  imperfectly  utilized  protein 
diet. 

The  primary  reason  for  food  is  the  production 
of  energy,  but  we  use  it  too  largely,  these  days  of 


FOOD  THAT  WEECKS  39 

plenty,  for  pleasure.  Foods  normally  utilized 
make  for  increasing  vitality  and  longevity.  Foods 
unneeded  clutter  the  system,  waste  vital  energy 
and  bring  to  an  untimely  end  unreckoned  thou- 
sands of  valued  lives. 


CHAPTER  V 
PLEASURE  OR  PROFIT  IN  EATING 

Palate  or  Principle? — The  ascetic  was  wrong. 
He  more  often  failed  to  find  the  living  God  whom 
we  can  only  sense  when  manifested  in  the  souls  of 
our  neighbors,  than  does  the  average  man  or 
woman.  By  denying  the  flesh  and  living  in  gloom 
and  hunger  he  could  but  shut  out  much  of  the 
Spirit  of  Good.  Science  and  experience  are  at  one 
in  deciding  that  appetite,  the  attendant  of  hunger, 
when  normal,  ranks  high  in  the  legitimate  plea- 
sures of  life.  It  is  the  first  gratification  instinct 
discovers,  and  usually  the  last  the  mind  relin- 
quishes. 

In  the  animal  kingdom,  food-desire  ranks  prob- 
ably stronger  than  fear  in  the  process  of  domestic- 
ation, and  practically  all  the  virtues  of  our  animal- 
pets  rest  in  their  dependence  upon  their  masters 
for  food.  Excepting  only  man's  need  for  air,  he 
knows  no  other  inciter  to  activity  more  persist- 
ently returning,  no  more  relentless  disturber  of  his 
comfort  when  denied,  than  food-desire.  And 
beneficently  a  high  and  almost  unflagging  pleasure 
has  been  associated  with  eating.  For  the  normal 
person  there  should  be  few  meals  in  the  span  of 
fourscore  years  which  do  not  stand  for  enjoyment, 
if  the  cooks  know  how  to  cook  and  the  eater  to 
eat.  The  mumps,  measles  and  chicken-pox  should 

40 


PLEASURE  OR  PROFIT  IN  EATING        41 

constitute  the  sum  of  interruptions.  The  lay- 
recognition  of  the  normality  of  food-desire  is  such 
as  to  constitute  the  average  man's  standard  of 
health.  If  he  has  a  good  appetite,  all  is  well.  If 
he  is  "off  his  feed"  he  insists  upon  his  need  for 
help. 

Constituted  as  human  beings  are,  with  a  large 
proportion  of  activity-craving  muscle — muscle 
capable  of  rivaling  in  endurance  even  the  wild 
animals — an  instinct  for  "rich  foods"  was  inher- 
ent. We  have  seen  how  this  instinct  is  highly  de- 
veloped in  the  many  who  labor  physically  during 
their  early  years.  While,  thru  disease  and  abuse 
and  misuse,  there  are  many  exceptions,  the  aver- 
age man  at  forty,  and  his  wife,  too,  will  choose 
heavy,  rich  dishes  representing  the  foods  needed 
only  by  the  extremely  active.  On  many  a  family 
dinner-table,  surrounded  by  a  brain-working 
father,  a  tongue-working  mother,  a  piano-working 
daughter,  and  two  sedentary  and  abnormally  un- 
deractive  boys,  will  be  served  the  following :  soup, 
thick  as  gravy;  steaming,  fragrant  roast  pork, 
garnished  with  candied  apples;  sweet  potatoes 
fried  in  grease;  hot  biscuits,  piping  hot,  so  the 
chunk  of  butter  will  melt  and  saturate  them  to  the 
crust ;  cold  slaw,  probably  served  with  sugar  and 
vinegar ;  mince  pie  and  cheese  and  a  cup  of  coffee 
around — just  a  family  dinner  with  no  company 
frills,  a  dinner  which  would  stagger  the  digestive 
strength  of  a  stone-mason !  But  Mrs.  Wife  says, 
"One  thing  is  certain,  I  do  give  my  family  the  best 
of  food.  They  are  all  so  thin  that  they  need  it. 
I  never  skimp  there." 


42      OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

The  writer  sat  facing  a  many-times  millionaire, 
one  of  the  third  generation  of  America's  world- 
famed  rich  families,  a  man  who  usually  traveled 
in  his  private  car,  but  was  making  this  eighteen- 
hour  trip  in  a  Pullman;  a  man  barely  fifty,  who 
could  have  had  the  best  any  people  or  clime  could 
give ;  a  man  who  was  accounted  highly  educated. 
He  was  slender  of  body,  almost  effeminate  in  the 
mildness  of  his  physical  activities,  yet  his  break- 
fast, ordered  by  his  secretary  and  which  he  ate 
alone,  consisted  of  four  hot  waffles  soaked  with 
syrup,  two  chops  and  two  cups  of  coffee.  His  foot- 
man met  him  at  the  station,  relieved  him  of  his 
overcoat,  and  respectfully  followed  by  his  two 
servants,  this  financial  giant,  languidly  exercising 
with  his  cane,  walked  slowly,  very  slowly  up  the 
steps  to  his  landau.  It  could  not  have  been  that 
disorderly  breakfast.  It  must  have  resulted  from' 
years  of  ignorant — or  was  it  indulgent  eating? — 
but  this  was  his  last  meal  in  a  Pullman.  Within 
ten  days  he  was  operated  for  appendicitis  most 
skilfully,  and  cared  for  most  perfectly.  But 
care  and  skill  and  millions  were  of  little  avail. 
Within  the  week  he  was  gone — "snatched  in  his 
prime"  the  headlines  said.  But  what  sort  of  a 
prime  was  it  that  could  not  react  from  a  simple, 
uncomplicated  appendix  operation?  What  sort 
of  heart  and  kidneys  were  his  that  could  not  stand 
the  strain,  that  could  not,  with  all  scientific  help, 
carry  their  owner  thru  so  usual  an  experience? 
The  term  "prime"  could  probably  never  have 
truly  applied  to  this  man.  And — barely  fifty  in 
years — he  died  as  old  men  die.  He  had  grown  old 


PLEASURE  OE  PROFIT  IN  EATING        43 

untimely,  as  definitely  self -poisoned  as  tho '  he  had 
been  for  years  a  drug-user. 

The  Vital  Food-Exercise  Balance — We  all  realize 
how  food-habits  grow,  and  how  thousands  of  indi- 
viduals live  on  to  old  age  daily  violating  in  their 
eating  the  rational  principles  of  dietetic  chemistry. 
Some  of  us  can  get  used  to  most  anything.  Still 
we  must  remember  the  poor  farmer's  horse  which, 
prodded  by  hunger  and  deluded  by  green  glasses, 
had  just  about  learned  to  eat  straw — when  he  died. 
Few  indeed  who  are  reading  these  pages  thru  a 
sense  of  need  for  health  but  should  make  some 
more  or  less  revolutionary  changes  in  their  habits 
of  diet.  And  after  middle  life  almost  any  change 
in  this  department  seems,  for  the  time,  grievous. 
Perverted  tastes  and  appetites  spurn  reason. 
They  have  a  logic  of  their  own  which  doggedly  de- 
fies reason.  We  recall  an  anemic,  dyspeptic  min- 
ister whose  periodic  attacks  of  "acid-burning  in- 
digestion," could  only  be  relieved  by  slices  of  iced 
cucumber,  dressed  in  salt  and  vinegar !  Incident- 
ally, this  gentle  divine's  incapacitating  "stomach 
disturbances"  were  always  the  result  of  taking 
food  away  from  home — which  he  didn't  "like"! 
And  more  than  incidentally,  he  was  almost  raven- 
ously fond  of  cucumbers.  Most  learnedly  he  rea- 
soned on  things  of  the  hereafter,  but  of  the  affairs 
of  his  stomach,  never. 

It  will  probably  be  many  generations  before  out- 
rageously toxic-producing  food-combinations  cease 
to  be  served  under  the  guise  of  entertainment. 
Many  conglomerations  a  la  Newberg  represent 
equally  culinary  skill,  wasteful  expense  and  diet- 


44      OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

etic  ignorance.  And  to-day  expense  and  culinary 
skill  stand  for  social  excellence,  even  as  does  di- 
etetic ignorance.  Underneath  it  all,  relentlessly, 
destructively,  constructively,  flows  on  the  inexor- 
able law  that  the  maintenance  of  physical  health, 
the  forcing  back  of  old  age  into  its  divinely  ap- 
pointed years  is  for  the  race,  for  families  and  for 
most  individuals,  a  question  of  the  maintenance 
of  the  uncompromising  relation  of  eating  to  work- 
ing, of  feeding  to  doing — is,  when  all  else  is  said, 
[the  vital  food-exercise  balance.  For  the  great 
majority  of  men  and  women  who  would  remain 
efficient — and  this  means  happy  and  worthy — thru 
their  sixties,  a  deep-dyed  decision  must  be  made 
at  forty,  a  decision  which  recognizes,  and  in  daily 
life  honors,  this  modern  expression  of  the  Bible's 
first  health  command. 

The  very  first  step  in  profitable  eating  is  to  ac- 
cept simplicity  in  food  as  representing  choice. 
Let  it  be  a  definite  resolution  for  you  and  your 
household  that  rich  dishes  shall  be  expurgated. 
This  will  relegate  to  the  innocuous  many  of  the 
Madam's  choice  recipes,  while  the  omission  of 
mince  pie  and  plum-pudding,  pork  and  pickles, 
fried  foods,  fudge  and  hot,  white  flour  bread,  with 
syrupy  desserts,  highly  seasoned  soups  and 
sauces,  and  grease-saturated  vegetables,  would 
seem  to  many  a  housewife  like  taking  the  bread  out 
of  her  family's  mouth.  For  the  many,  such  ad- 
justment will  be  difficult — for  perverted  digestion 
craves  its  toxin-producers  as  the  native  does  his 
1  'hasheesh."  Distorted  appetites  almost  revolt 
at  a  diet  of  wholesome  simples,  but  if  resolution 


PLEASURE  OR  PROFIT  IN  EATING        45 

sustains  decision,  two  or  three  weeks  of  sincere 
effort  will  find  desire  whetted  for  a  whole-wheat- 
bread-and-milk  luncheon,  where  formerly  at  least 
three  substantial  courses  were  demanded.  With- 
in a  few  months  of  wholesome,  simple  food-using 
most  distorted  tastes  may  be  cured,  and  the  indi- 
vidual grow  to  instinctively  reject  dishes  that  are 
dietetically  threatening. 

Quite  recently  a  learned,  serious-minded,  pro- 
fessionally noted  food-specialist  of  New  York,  a 
physician  limiting  his  practice  to  the  treatment  of 
digestive  disorders,  has  announced  as  his  opinion 
that  our  one  gustatory  sin  is  the  heterogeneous 
combinations  which  comprise  our  meals,  and  he 
objects  specially  to  the  mixtures  of  starches  and 
sugars  with  proteins,  on  the  ground  that  the  form- 
er are  much  more  easily  oxidized  than  the  latter. 
Thus  they  rob  the  proteins  of  the  oxygen  needed 
for  their  proper  assimilation,  and  thereby  make 
possible  protein  decomposition — the  basis  of  auto- 
intoxication. Therefore  he  advocates  the  use  of 
proteins  and  avoidance  of  starches  and  sugars. 
The  doctor  is  unquestionably  right  in  advocating 
simpler  meals.  Much  overeating  is  due  to  the 
cleverness  with  which  we  successively  tickle  one 
corner  of  our  appetite  after  another  by  multiplied 
courses  of  an  endless  variety  of  foods.  Simpler 
diet  truly  is  needed  in  most  homes.  However,  it 
is  regrettable  that  this  food-specialist  did  not  pur- 
sue his  reasoning  to  its  logical  end.  Man  was 
given  taste  and  teeth  and  digestive  apparatus  for 
all  classes  of  food,  and  when  the  sugars  and 
starches  disturb  protein  digestion  by  using  up  the 


46       OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

available  oxygen  the  intimation  is  strong  that  the 
individual  is  ''shy"  of  oxygen.  The  doctor  is 
surely  right  for  those  who  refuse  or  are  unable  to 
quadruple  their  oxygen-supply.  The  rest  of  us 
will  exercise  muscles  more  and  teeth  less  and  twice 
a  day  saturate  our  cell-protoplasm  with  all 
the  oxygen  it  can  absorb  and  mix  our  starches  and 
proteins  as  we  wish. 

Water,  Salt  and  Bran — For  the  toxic  and  over- 
nourished,  two  daily  meals  are  advisable,  break- 
fast and  evening  dinner ;  for  the  average  sedentary 
man  and  woman  and  most  brain-workers,  two-and- 
a-half  meals  are  better — the  half  representing,  of 
course,  a  light  noon  luncheon.  Muscle-workers 
need  three  meals,  all  hearty  ones.  The  under- 
nourished, the  thin,  anemic,  weak-digesting  kind 
should  take  five  or  six — luncheons,  really,  rather 
than  meals.  Thus  feeding  should  be  tempered  to 
folks. 

Less  food,  more  water — for  most  of  us.  It  is 
only  the  misinformed  who,  to-day,  fear  to  mix 
water-drinking  and  eating — not  that  fluids  should 
be  used  to  encourage  poor  chewing  or  rapid  eat- 
ing, but  a  glass  of  cold  water  for  each  fifty  pounds 
of  body-weight  may  be  taken  each  meal  with  ben- 
efit. The  addition  of  a  thin  slice  of  lemon  to  each 
glass  of  drinking  water  is  peculiarly  helpful  to 
those  who  have  a  tendency  to  overacidity.  For 
let  us  remember  that  the  citric  acid  of  oranges  and 
lemons  normally  becomes  an  alkaline  citrate  in  the 
body-fluids,  thus  adding  to  our  valuable  reserve  of 
alkali.  Remember,  too,  that  the  addition  of  sugar 
to  these  fruits  defeats  this  benefit,  for  excess  of 


PLEASURE  OR  PROFIT  IN  EATING        47 

sugar  increases  fermentation  and  the  formation 
of  acetic  acid,  which  decidedly  interferes  with 
stomach  digestion.  Excess  of  salt  undoubtedly 
seriously  decreases  the  fluidity  of  the  blood  and 
has  been  most  straightly  accused  of  being  one  of 
the  irritants  responsible  for  early  hardening  of 
the  arteries.  Much  more  water,  then,  and  much 
less  salt !  White  pepper  only,  never  red  nor  black 
— and  forget  to  use  it  often ! 

Food  as  prepared  in  the  modern  kitchen  is  much 
too  soluble.  It  leaves  an  abnormally  small  residue 
to  be  excreted — an  explanation  of  the  great  preval- 
ence of  constipation — always  a  discomfort,  often 
an  evil.  Excepting  in  rare  cases  where  the  habit 
of  using  strong  cathartics  is  confirmed,  two 
changes  will  speedily  relieve  this  condition,  the 
first  of  which  is  the  addition  of  one  heaping  table- 
spoonful  of  wheat-bran  for  each  fifty  pounds  of 
weight.  This  should  be  taken  daily,  not  as  food, 
but  to  supply  what  the  farmer  calls,  "roughness." 
He  knows  his  stock  must  have  it  if  they  are  to  be 
healthy.  Any  clean,  coarse  wheat-bran  may  be 
used.  It  can  be  much  improved  in  flavor  by  toast- 
ing until  it  is  brown  and  crisp.  Enough  can  be 
prepared  in  a  few  minutes  to  last  a  month,  if  kept 
in  a  fruit  jar  or  well-covered  receptacle.  The 
bran  may  be  added  to  any  breakfast  food,  or 
moistened  with  cream,  and  a  dash  of  salt  added, 
taken  for  lunch  or  at  bedtime.  Bran  does  not  need 
chewing — in  fact,  it  can  only  be  chewed  at,  and  the 
quickest  way  of  appropriating  it,  when  not  mixed 
with  other  food,  is  to  wash  it  down,  preferably 
with  milk,  though  water  will  do.  The  daily  habit 


48      OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

of  using  bran  cannot  be  too  strongly  recommended 
for  all  troubled  with  intestinal  sluggishness.  This 
habit,  if  associated  with  the  second  help — the 
strengthening  of  the  involuntary  muscles  of  the 
digestive  tract  which  follows  the  daily  active  use  of 
the  voluntary  muscles,  recommended  in  other  chap- 
ters— will  permanently  relieve  constipation  for  the 
large  majority. 

The  cravings  of  appetite,  that  autocrat  whom  so 
few  think  of  resisting,  develop  almost  inevitably 
thru  food-misuse,  and  it  requires  a  world  of  res- 
olution to  throttle  this  usurper.  To  dally  with 
the  things  we  like  after  our  reason  warns  that  their 
use  is  unwise,  is  but  to  prolong  the  struggle.  A 
determined  adjusting  of  eating  to  our  legitimate 
food-needs,  sincerely  undertaken,  will  reduce  the 
acute  contest  to  a  matter  of  weeks,  almost  of  days. 
And  the  appetite-problem  will  rapidly  become  one 
of  real  simplicity,  and  its  control  a  matter  of  ease 
if  we  plant  deep  our  determination  to  make  eating 
attendant  upon  our  true  food-requirements.  The 
two  consummating  victories,  then,  which  will  most 
certainly  augment  the  quality  of  our  physical 
youth  and  preserve  it  thru  the  years,  may  be  re- 
duced to  this  sentence:  Exercise  every  muscle 
every  day  till  it  hurts;  intelligently  and  honestly 
adjust  your  eating  to  your  work. 

Practical  Food  Helps — In  view  of  the  foregoing 
exposition  of  the  underlying  food-exercise  prin- 
ciples, the  following  sententious  condensations 
may  be  permitted.  Many  are  too  thin.  They 
need  to  have  their  lungs  examined,  and  their  blood- 
infecting  tonsils  removed  and  diseased  gums  and 


PLEASUBE  OK  PROFIT  IN  EATING        49 

teeth  radically  treated.  Most  of  the  thin,  how- 
ever, must  acquire  a  fat-digesting  ability.  The 
stomach  does  not  digest  fats — the  intestines  do. 
An  imperfect  stomach-digestion  interferes  with 
the  work  of  the  intestines,  therefore  often  the 
whole  digestive  process  needs  help.  Cream  is  the 
easiest  fat  to  learn  to  handle.  It  and  raw  eggs 
are  the  chief  dependence  for  increasing  weight 
when  patients  are  on  rest-cure.  The  overacid 
stomachs  so  universal  with  meat  and  candy  eaters, 
or,  in  fact,  with  all  habitually  using  rich  foods,  in- 
terfere disconcertingly  with  the  free  use  of  milk. 
That  milk  and  later  cream  may  be  helpfully 
taken,  therefore,  stomach  acidity  should  be  system- 
atically neutralized.  The  discontinuance  of  meats 
and  sweets  will  almost  automatically  do  this,  while 
the  addition  of  twenty-five  to  fifty  per  cent,  of 
Vichy-water  to  all  milk  taken  will  make  it  possible 
for  one  to  soon  use  it  in  fattening  quantities.  This 
means  at  least  a  quart  of  good-quality  milk  to  each 
fifty  pounds  of  body-weight  daily.  Later,  one, 
then  two,  finally  three  and  even  four  ounces  of 
cream  may  be  added  to  each  quart  of  milk.  When 
this  is  being  comfortably  cared  for  it  is  time  to  add 
raw  eggs.  At  the  start  refiningly  repudiate  all 
unwholesome  mental  associations  connected  with 
uncooked  eggs,  for  such  associations  are  legion. 
Then  even  candled  eggs  carefully  broken  into  a 
small  glass,  sprinkled  with  a  half-teaspoonful  of 
lemon  juice  arid  swallowed  with  yolk  unbroken, 
can  be  recklessly  tossed  down  like  the  movie- 
villain  does  his  whiskey — and  the  trick  is  done! 
Nothing  slips  down  more  smoothly  than  a  raw  egg 


50      OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

when  one  has  discarded  his  antagonisms  and  in- 
hibitions. Three  a  day  for  two  weeks,  then  six — 
ultimately,  if  needed,  a  dozen — and  weight  will 
come,  unless  there  is  some  undiscovered  organic 
defect,  or  one  is  disconcerting  his  digestive  ap- 
paratus by  impossible  food-combinations.  The 
writer  has  seen  rest-treatment  patients  under 
trained  supervision  thrive  on  two  dozen,  even  on 
thirty  eggs  a  day — little  five-foot-five  women,  too, 
not  seven-foot  giants.  Milk  and  eggs  used  as  sug- 
gested— with,  of  course,  adequate  oxidation — will 
almost  invariably  increase  avoirdupois.  Six 
feedings  a  day  are  advisable  for  the  thin.  Abso- 
lute discontinuance  of  tobacco  helps  much. 

Very  different  the  stout  one's  problem.  With 
him  all  classes  of  food  tend  to  be  converted  into 
undesired  pounds.  Sugar,  starches  and  fats,  par- 
ticularly add  to  weight,  and  woe  it  is  for  the  fat 
man !  There  is  no  royal  road  upon  which  he  may 
attain  symmetry.  Grace  cometh  only  thru  suffer- 
ing. He  must  drink  but  half  the  fluids  he  craves, 
and  most  of  the  long  list  of  good  things  he  so  en- 
joys must  be  dutifully  put  behind  him.  Green 
vegetables,  lean  fish  and  lean  meats,  with  three 
times  the  amount  of  exercise  prescribed  for  the 
average  man,  will  unquestionably  effect  remark- 
able results.  Unhappily,  surplus  energy  and  sur- 
plus avoirdupois  are  not  usually  associated,  and 
as  the  business  of  reducing  is  protracted  thru 
many  years,  successes  in  attenuation  are  excep- 
tional. 

The  following  succinct  program  may  be  taken 
as  a  model  for  Mr.  Brain-worker  and  the  members 


PLEASURE  OR  PROFIT  IN  EATING        51 

of  his  family — and  it  is  for  them  particularly  that 
saving  help  is  so  vitally  needed.  Get  fit  first. 
Make  a  good  job  of  this.  Six  months  devoted  to  it 
should  prolong  active  life  six  years.  Then  start, 
physically,  seven  days  a  week,  with  a  viciously 
strenuous  quarter  of  an  hour.  Such  viciousness 
produces  the  highest  type  of  lawfulness.  Your 
weight  being  average,  the  following  diet  sugges- 
tions will  apply.  You  have  taken  one  glass  of 
water  when  you  finished  exercising.  You  drink 
two  more  at  breakfast.  You  have  fresh  grapes 
(including  seeds)  or  baked  apple,  a  sugarless 
orange,  grapefruit  or  equivalent  in  the  alkali-pro- 
ducing fruits.  Then  a  generous  bowl  of  oatmeal 
or  other  breakfast-food  with  a  quarter  pint  of 
good  cream  and  one  teaspoonful  of  sugar.  A  few 
dates  or  half  a  fig  or  other  fruits  may  be  added  to 
the  breakfast-food  for  variety.  As  a  rule,  the  un- 
cooked cereals  will  be  preferred  in  summer  and  the 
cooked,  in  winter.  Follow  with  a  goodly  Irish 
potato,  baked,  boiled,  dressed  with  white  sauce, 
riced,  mashed,  steamed — but  not  fried  in  any  form, 
one  or  two  thin  rashers  of  bacon,  a  sliver  of  mack- 
erel or,  especially  in  winter,  a  soft-cooked  egg,  two 
slices  of  toast  and  a  cup  of  mild  coffee,  moderately 
sweetened  and  well-creamed.  Something  is  de- 
cidedly wrong  with  the  individual's  stomach  or 
head  who  does  not  comfortably  digest  this  break- 
fast. One,  better  two  miles'  genuine  walking 
should  bring  one  to  his  office  in  perfect  condition. 
The  best  work  hours  will  then  follow,  with  unin- 
terrupted application  to  business  from  nine  to  one. 
The  half-meal  comes  for  luncheon.  A  pint  of 


52     OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

good  milk  and  a  quarter  of  a  loaf  of  whole-wheat 
bread  two  or  three  days  old  is  a  perfect  noon-day 
meal.  In  cold  weather  a  bowl  of  soup  and  a  sand- 
wich— side-stepping  the  ham — or  another  soft- 
cooked  egg,  or  a  half-stew  during  oyster  season, 
or  a  light  salad  may  be  alternated  for  variety.  A 
twenty-minute  nap  is  now  worth  from  five  to  one 
hundred  dollars,  depending  upon  one's  bank  bal- 
ance. Twenty  minutes,  helps,  thirty,  doesn't, 
forty,  hurts!  If  work  calls  for  four  hours'  more 
application  it  should  now  be  easily  given.  Two 
or  three  miles  of  thoroughly  brisk  walking,  or  a 
half-hour  vigorously  spent  with  the  medicine-ball, 
or  an  hour  in  the  gymnasium,  cavorting  and  sweat- 
ing, should  intervene  between  work  and  dinner. 
And  dinner  may  be  a  feast.  A  good  meal  has  been 
earned.  It  may  start,  in  hot  weather,  with  a  cold 
soup,  the  rest  of  the  year  with  a  thin  stock  or 
cream  soup.  Red  meat  may  follow  twice  a  week, 
fish,  poultry,  game,  or  the  lighter  sea-foods  for  the 
other  days — potatoes  again,  always  those  Irish 
potatoes  with  their  gift  of  potash,  and  one  or  two 
other  vegetables  devoid  of  grease.  A  mild  fruit- 
punch  or  sherbet  adds  much  to  the  dinner  course. 
A  moderate  service  of  a  light  salad  is  now  in  order, 
avoiding  excess  of  vinegar  and  high  seasoning — 
as  in  all  dishes.  A  long  list  of  wholesome,  simple 
desserts  is  available  for  the  wise  diner,  including 
fruit-souffles,  the  various  gelatins,  tapioca  and 
fruit  combinations,  ices  and  frozen  custards  and 
creams,  even  transgressing  into  the  region  of  ap- 
ple, huckleberry,  blackberry  and  pumpkin  pies, 
and  the  simpler  puddings.  Then  a  few  nuts  and 


one  or  two  after-dinner  confections  should  com- 
plete a  perfect  meal  for  all  but  gourmands.  Toast 
or  whole-wheat  bread  or  corn,  bran  or  whole-wheat 
muffins  may  be  wisely  served.  A  single  cup  of 
cocoa  or  far-f rom-strong  tea  or  a  small  mild  coffee 
are  allowable,  though  two  glasses  of  water  are 
much  more  important. 

And  now  for  home  at  its  best,  with  two  hours 
and  a  half  for  physical  and  mental  relaxation — 
cards  for  some,  music  for  others,  light  reading  for 
many.  That  beautiful  ''children's  hour"  of  the 
poet  will  rarely  be  missed  in  the  perfect  home. 
Still,  for  those  who  would  keep  the  mind  young, 
one  hour  must  be  reserved  for  serious,  systematic 
study,  outlined  more  in  detail  in  a  later  chapter. 
Of  course,  there  will  be  social  evenings,  and  thea- 
tre evenings  and  lecture  evenings,  but  none  of  the 
faithful  will  seek  their  beds  until  they  have  de- 
voted ten  minutes  more  to  the  business  of  storing 
up  vitality,  by  repeating,  somewhat  curtailed,  the 
exercises  which  so  vigorously  initiated  the  day. 
Thus  the  wise  man  may  live  at  once  the  simple 
life,  the  strenuous  life,  the  perfect  life. 

The  Question  of  Alcohol — Had  this  book  been 
written  a  few  years  ago,  pages  would  necessarily 
have  been  devoted  to  a  discussion  of  the  alcohol 
question.  Science,  unsentimental  life-insurance, 
mortuary  records,  sentiment,  criminal  records, 
the  gruesome  relation  between  railway,  factory 
and  automobile  accidents  and  drinking,  the 
Great  War,  and  probably  politics  have  com- 
bined to  render  any  lengthy  discussion  on 
this  subject  unnecessary.  A  few  pertinent  facts, 


54      OLD  AT  FORTY  OB  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

however,  may  help  some  of  the  still  doubtful  ones. 
Alcohol  is  a  mocker.  Like  an  opiate,  it  masks. 
Many  of  the  autotoxic  and  nicotin  laden  find  a 
passing  comfort  from  the  nag  of  these  nerve-irri- 
tants in  alcohol.  For  such,  work  under  the  influ- 
ence of  stimulants  is  apparently  easier,  though 
total  efficiency  is  always  reduced.  Many  thou- 
sands of  unprejudiced  experiments  have  proven 
that  for  all  classes  of  workers,  for  day-laborers, 
for  the  artisan,  dependent  upon  manual  dexterity, 
thru  the  various  grades  of  mental  workers,  the 
productive  output  of  a  given  number  of  hours  is 
always  less  with  alcohol  than  without  it.  This 
efficiency  reduction  is,  of  course,  more  marked  in 
some  than  in  others. 

Let  us  not  be  deceived.  Alcohol  is  alcohol.  It 
is  as  truly  alcohol  that  makes  a  social  high-ball  ac- 
ceptable as  the  rumster's  dram.  It  is  alcohol  in 
champagne  and  in  the  "light  wines"  for  domestic 
use,  in  a  mint  julep  and  claret-punch  and  brandy 
drops,  just  as  it  is  in  blockade-whiskey,  French 
brandy,  creme  de  menthe,  or  two-and-three-quar- 
ter's  per  cent.  beer.  An  ounce  of  whiskey  goes  in- 
to an  average  "toddy."  This  represents  practic- 
ally a  tablespoonful  of  pure  alcohol.  In  a  course 
dinner  where  wine  is  served  the  average  guest  will 
drink  from  six  to  eight  ounces — again,  from  a 
tablespoonful  to  a  tablespoonful  and  a  quarter  of 
pure  alcohol.  A  single  stein  of  average  beer  rep- 
resents nearly  a  tablespoonful  and  a  half  of  raw 
alcohol.  The  milder  the  drink  the  more  is  drunk, 
as,  two  steins  of  beer  equal  two  ' '  toddies. ' '  Elim- 
inate alcohol  from  any  of  the  long  list  of  beverages 


and  concoctions  brewed  in  its  name,  and  they 
would  all  fall  as  flat  to  both  the  outspoken  advo- 
cates of  strong  drinks,  and  to  those  who  wish  to  be 
deceived  by  social  camouflage — as  soda-pop  or 
circus  lemonade.  No  matter  how  it  masquerades, 
or  under  what  term  served,  it  is  alcohol  which  has 
perpetuated  the  almost  endless  list  of  "  drinks. " 

In  Regard  to  Smoking — Many  more  thousand 
men — and  women  too,  than  are  to-day  striving 
against  the  tantalizing  call  of  drink,  find  tobacco  a 
problem.  And,  scientifically,  the  two  problems 
differ  but  in  degree.  The  effects  desired  from 
these  drugs  by  the  majority  of  alcohol  drinkers 
and  tobacco  users  are  in  both  cases  either  a  tem- 
porary release  from  the  sense  of  depression  or 
inadequacy,  or  a  partial  escape  from  irking  ten- 
sion. Some  seek  false  stimulation;  others,  arti- 
ficial ease.  Physiology  reveals  the  influence  of 
these  and  related  drugs  on  the  sympathetic  nerv- 
ous system,  the  part  of  our  nervous  machine  so 
intimately  influencing  our  feelings.  The  reasons 
for  the  drug  cravings,  when  accurately  analyzed, 
are  found  rooted  in  abnormal  conditions,  largely 
the  result  of  personal  indulgences.  Such  cravings 
are  pathologic  or  disease-expressing,  not  physio- 
logic, or  normal.  And  for  us  who  would  fully  live, 
the  determination  to  cast  out  the  abnormal  will 
be  resolute  and  deep  seated.  Hence,  practically, 
tobacco-using  will  be  uncompromisingly  limited. 
Undoubtedly  the  day-laborer,  the  toughened  trap- 
per, the  rugged  lumberjack  will  smoke  his  dozen 
pipes  unharmed.  His  nervous  system  is  well  nigh 
immune — his  body-tissues  have  long  reeked  with 


oxygen!  It  is  not  so  with  Mr.  Man-of-affairs 
whose  maximum  indulgence  should  be  three  mild 
twenty-minute  smokes,  or  even  two  during  hot 
weather.  If  with  this  temperance,  there  is  still 
the  nagging  of  an  unappeased  crave,  he  will  be 
wise  to  discontinue  tobacco  entirely  and  will  soon 
find  himself  more  comfortable  without  any,  than 
tantalized  by  unsatisfying  moderation.  Mrs. 
Wife,  if  possessed  of  any  of  the  nervous  refine- 
ments of  her  sex,  will  indulge  in  tobacco  in  any 
amount  only  at  the  cost  of  increased  nervous  in- 
stability. 

In  the  question  of  cigarettes  two  additional 
problems  are  revealed.  The  insinuating  state- 
ment that  the  cigarette  is  the  mildest  smoke,  and 
the  shortest  as  well,  becomes  false  when  the  cigar- 
ette is  multiplied  by  from  fifteen  to  fifty,  and 
doubly  false  the  hour  the  cigarette  smoker  begins 
to  inhale.  The  majority  of  pipe  and  cigar  users 
never  think  of  drawing  nicotin-laden  fumes  into 
the  actively  absorbing  mucous  surfaces  of  lungs 
and  nasal  cavities.  Inhaling  multiplies  many 
times  the  percentage  of  nicotin  truly  entering  the 
smoker's  circulation.  The  use  of  uninhaled  cigar- 
ettes limited  to  a  half-dozen  a  day  could  elicit  ob- 
jection from  unreasonable  extremists  only.  But 
they  are  rarely  thus  limited.  Moreover,  and  hero 
is  the  second  and  even  more  serious  objection — 
the  cigarette  smoker  soon  realizes  that  in  a  few 
minutes  he  can  secure  a  definite  change  in  sensa- 
tion by  inhaling  three  or  four  chestfuls  of  cigarette 
smoke.  And  more  and  more  does  he  depend  upon 
this  artificial  influence  in  meeting  the  problems, 


PLEASURE  OR  PROFIT  IN  EATING        57 

the  irritations,  the  responsibilities  of  the  day,  un- 
til a  slavery  to  the  evanescent  false  comfort  is 
formed.  Multitudes  of  business  men  fortify  them- 
selves for  an  unpleasant  business  interview  by  an 
eagerly  inhaled  cigarette.  Attorneys  rush  out  of 
the  court-room  eager  for  their  nicotin  bracer  be- 
fore addressing  the  court.  Surgeons  have  been 
known  to  be  so  enslaved  by  this  seductive  help  as 
to  detail  a  nurse  to  manipulate  their  cigarettes  for 
them  during  the  strain  of  operating.  The  laws 
of  asepsis  make  it  impossible  for  the  poor  man  to 
touch  the  cigarette  with  his  own  hands — hence  his 
helpless  dependence  on  the  nurse.  Thru  all  this 
do  we  not  see  an  essential  weakening  of  the 
smoker's  will — as  are  all  wills  imperfect  that 
grasp  the  artificial  in  the  face  of  the  difficulties  of 
the  day's  work?  Cigarette  dependence  is  a  true 
slavery.  To  repeat,  then — the  man  who  can  com- 
fortably limit  his  tobacco,  year  after  year,  to  two 
or  three  mild  indulgences  a  day  and  from  this  de- 
rive, as  do  some,  unquestioned  comfort,  may  feel 
safe  in  such  use  of  tobacco.  For  a  great  majority 
of  others,  particularly  the  nervous,  those  in  whose 
families  exist  any  taint  of  mental  disorder,  for  all 
those  of  high  blood  pressure,  and  the  throng  who 
are  not  satisfied  and  made  comfortable  by  the 
temperate  use  of  the  weed,  larger  efficiency  will  be 
preserved  and  total  comfort  and  length  of  days 
increased  by  abstinence. 

Coal-tar  Drugs — Alcohol  and  tobacco  are  both 
properly  classified  as  drugs,  and  in  addition  to 
them  is  a  long  list  of  medicines  relied  upon  to 
change  sensation,  to  relieve  pain,  produce  sleep,  to 


58      OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

alter  sensitiveness,  to  dispel  for  the  time  the  sense 
of  depression.  Of  this  long  list  two  groups  to-day 
are  most  commonly  abused,  both  of  which  are 
chemical  products  of  coal-tar.  Aspirin,  phenace- 
tin,  acetanilid  are  easily  purchased  either  in  pow- 
der or  tablet  form,  and,  more  or  less  disguised  as 
headache  and  neuralgia  cures,  are  used  most 
thoughtlessly  by  many  families.  Recklessly  are 
these  powerful  drugs  swallowed  for  even  minor 
discomforts  by  many,  impatient  of  pain.  And 
even  more  powerful  is  the  second  group — the  so- 
called  hypnotics  or  sleep-powders,  as  veronal,  tri- 
onal  and  similar  chemicals.  Without  exception, 
these  substances,  even  in  small  doses,  influence 
potently  the  centers  governing  the  circulation. 
There  are  conditions  in  the  system  in  which  even 
ordinary  doses  of  the  ''harmless'*  coal-tar  drugs 
have  proven  fatal.  They  should  be  taken  only 
when  prescribed  by  a  trustworthy  physician. 

But  the  real  message  for  the  intelligent  person 
lies  not  so  much  in  the  damage  of  occasional 
dosage  of  strong  drugs  as  in  the  fact  that  head- 
aches, neuralgias  and  sleepless  nights  are  warn- 
ings not  to  be  hushed  by  drugs,  but  to  be  intelli- 
gently investigated,  the  causes  found,  and  the 
wrong  habits  of  living  altered.  Of  the  two  ways 
of  life  that  of  the  drug-user  will  be  shorter  and  his 
total  efficiency  less  than  that  of  the  disciple  of  sane 
living. 

The  Dyspeptic's  Primer — The  following  truths 
are  worthy  of  memorizing  by  the  dyspeptic : 

The  untrained  palate  is  as  insistent  and  unrea- 
soning as  an  undisciplined  child. 


PLEASURE  OR  PROFIT  IN  EATING        59 

Indigestion  is  usually  the  remorse  of  a  guilty 
palate. 

Fear  and  stomach-consciousness  are  the  true 
causes  underlying  nervous  indigestion. 

Chemically  speaking,  sweets  are  not  always 
sweet,  and  sour  is  not  always  acid. 

The  richer  the  food,  the  poorer  it  ^s  for  the 
brain-worker. 

Eat,  drink  water,  and  be  merry. 

There  are  thirty  feet  of  intestines  which  inevit- 
ably become  sluggish  without  an  insoluble  resi- 
duum in  the  food. 

Eighty  per  cent,  of  "gas  on  the  stomach"  re- 
sults from  the  air-swallowing  habit;  the  other 
twenty  per  cent,  from  perfectly  normal  chemical 
reactions,  absolutely  harmless. 

The  habit  of  repeated  "belching  of  gas"  belongs 
only  to  air-swallowers. 

Offensive  breath  has  three  sources:  defective 
teeth,  diseased  tonsils,  or  a  stomach  infected  with 
the  germs  of  putrefaction.  Each  of  these  condi- 
tions stands  for  chronic  self -poisoning  and  merits 
rigorous  dental  or  medical  attention. 

Few  human  ailments  respond  so  quickly  to  ra- 
tional treatment  as  indigestion. 


CHAPTEE  VI 
THE  EASE  THAT  DESTKOYS 

Drifters,  Gamblers,  Stewers,  Builders — Some- 
time or  other  most  of  us  indulge  ourselves  by 
classifying  our  neighbors,  imitating  Nature,  prob- 
ably, which  groups  them  into  whites,  blacks,  yel- 
lows, browns  and  reds.  From  the  viewpoint  of 
habits  which  harden  into  character,  clearness  may 
be  served  by  a  vivid  grouping  of  folks  into  the 
Drifters,  the  Gamblers,  the  Stewers  and  the 
Builders. 

We  have  neighbors  who  drift  with  the  current, 
rarely  planning  beyond  to-day,  minimizing  effort, 
asserting  themselves  only  negatively — thus  offer- 
ing opposition  to  progress,  indolently  floating 
down  life's  stream,  to  be  lost  in  the  Sea  of  Noth- 
ingness, or  finally  cast  up  as  driftwood.  Theirs 
is  the  ease  which  destroys. 

Quite  different  the  Gamblers,  to  whom  life  is  a 
game  of  chance.  We  all  know  them — the  men  and 
women  who  are  ever  willing  to  "take  a  shot,"  to 
match  wits  with  chance,  to  stake  any  possession 
against  a  turn  of  the  wheel — those  for  whom  life 
is  a  bet — a  winning  or  a  losing.  For  them  the 
future  beckons  with  fortunes  to  be  won  by  a  turn 
of  the  cards.  Some  gamble  with  money,  some 
with  health,  others  with  character,  and  a  few  even 

60 


THE  EASE  THAT  DESTROYS  61 

with  their  faith  in  a  hereafter.  For  all  of  these 
life  must  constantly  be  impending  tragedy. 

Probably  in  our  own  household,  certainly  in  a 
nearby  one,  or  in  the  office,  we  meet  the  Stewer — 
no  idle  drifter  he,  no  slipping  down  with  the  cur- 
rent, inert  and  nearly  submerged.  There  is  froth 
and  foam  where  he  is,  for  he  keeps  his  world, 
whether  it  be  large  or  small,  in  a  turmoil.  The 
toast  is  scorched,  and  he  stews ;  the  car  to  the  office 
is  crowded,  and  he  registers  his  condemnatory  pro- 
test; the  morning's  mail  is  late,  and  the  govern- 
ment is  condemned.  And  all  thru  the  day  he  lives 
in  the  midst  of  the  acrid  fumes  of  his  own  fussings. 
Or  it  may  be  the  housewife  who  lives  tense 
thru  the  years,  forcing  up  her  blood  pres- 
sure, shortening  her  days,  becoming  sour  in 
thought  and  speech,  and  acidulating  the  lives 
about  her. 

The  Gamblers  and  the  Stewers  stand  for  inord- 
inate, unnatural,  life-shortening  tension.  One 
group  sits  on  the  volcano's  lips,  defying  Fate;  the 
other  loses  the  calm  and  sweetness  of  living — 
curdling  the  milk  of  life's  pleasure  and  kindness 
by  the  damaging  ferment  of  their  own  moods. 

But  we  also  know  that  better  group — the  Build- 
ers. They  are  sprinkled  thru  every  community, 
or  the  communities  would  cease  to  exist.  Determ- 
ination to  accomplish,  to  earn,  to  produce,  to  serve 
his  generation,  distinguishes  the  Builder  from  the 
Drifter.  Capacity  to  deserve,  to  return  value  re- 
ceived, to  bide  in  patience  from  seedtime  to  harv- 
est, removes  him  from  the  Gambler.  To  have 
found  satisfaction  in  the  mere  doing,  whether  the 


62      OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

task  be  dignified  or  menial,  if  duty  has  called,  to 
add  some  element  of  interest  or  kindliness  of  un- 
derstanding to  every  transaction,  whether  the  pur- 
chase of  a  paper  from  a  newsboy,  the  dedication  of 
a  memorial  chapel,  or  the  dismissal  of  an  unfaith- 
ful servant ;  to  labor  contentedly  accomplishing  the 
small  plan  until  the  larger  vista  opens,  confidently 
recognizing  the  supremacy  of  worth — to  so  live 
raises  the  Builder  undeniably  above  those  who 
stew  and  grovel. 

It  is  taken  for  granted  that  the  readers  of  this 
chapter  are  of  the  Builders ;  that  they  are  sincere, 
intelligent  men  and  women,  facing  the  problems  of 
life  as  squarely  as  they  know,  and  wanting  help 
that  none  of  their  talents,  few  or  many,  may  re- 
main buried. 

Balancing  Work  and  Rest — In  principle  and 
practice  we  have  discussed  the  balancing  of  food 
and  work,  but  only  less  important  is  the  balancing 
of  work  and  rest.  Rare,  truly,  is  the  abnormal 
person  who  does  not  know  the  appeal  of  ease.  It 
should  be  so.  It  represents  a  beneficent  economy, 
and  we  are  so  constituted  that  ease  may  rank 
among  the  highest  of  pleasures.  To  those  who 
have  toiled,  using  mind  and  body  earnestly,  ardu- 
ously, consistently,  till  strength  seems  spent  and 
weariness  possesses — to  such,  with  souls  at  peace, 
hours  of  earned  relaxation  rank  with  the  highest 
joys.  Unlearned  in  life  are  they  who  have  not 
tasted  again  and  again  the  exquisite  pleasure 
which  comes  when,  spent  with  intensive  effort,  the 
soul-master  commands,  "stop  and  rest!"  Such 
rest  is  conservative,  constructive — one  of  life's 


THE  EASE  THAT  DESTROYS  63 

perfect  economies,  the  magician's  secret.  But  it 
must  be  body-earned  and  heart-earned.  For  the 
masses,  work-years  bring  no  such  heights  of 
pleasure.  They  may  tire  their  bodies  into  dead 
weariness,  but  protesting  minds  and  envious  souls 
embitter  the  sweetness  of  repose.  With  all  hon- 
esty of  purpose,  the  mental  worker  may  toil  till 
the  sun  is  far  set,  but  food-toxins  extract  restful- 
ness  from  his  rest.  Do  we  wonder  that  classes 
and  masses  have  decided  that  heaven  only  is  the 
place  of  perfect  rest?  And  so  religion  after  re- 
ligion promises  their  saved,  as  chief  among 
Heaven's  glories,  an  eternity  of  repose.  The 
singing  of  paeans  and  the  tuning  of  harps,  accord- 
ing to  some  teachers,  represent  the  acme  of  effort 
during  a  Christian's  eternity;  while,  with  fighting 
over,  the  Saracen  warrior,  dying  on  the  field  of 
battle,  basks  thru  an  eternity  coddled  in  the  lap 
of  desire. 

The  Ease  That  Saves — There  is  a  deep,  inher- 
ently deep,  reason  for  the  appeal  of  ease,  and  this 
is  found  when  we  recognize  and  comprehend  the 
ease  that  saves.  There  must  be  relaxation  that 
there  may  be  recuperation,  and  this  is  found  in  the 
ease  of  rest.  Many  of  those  who  are  failing  to 
meet  the  problems  of  daily  adjustment  are  losing 
out  simply  because  they  do  not  know  how  to  rest. 
And  pity  it  is  that  when  the  strenuous  days  come 
they  may  not  be  made  glorious  by  renewing  nights. 
On  other  pages  we  shall  discuss  in  detail  the  prin- 
ciples of  learning  to  rest.  But  for  those  who 
know  how  to  snatch  a  few  minutes  of  absolute  re- 
laxation between  tasks,  who  can  lean  back  in  their 


64     OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

chairs  and  closing  their  eyes  shut  out  the  sounds 
of  busy  people,  and  drawing  the  curtains  of  the 
mind  sleep  for  twenty  minutes,  taking  the  siesta 
which  invigorates  and  tones  the  whole  man;  for 
those  to  whom  the  caress  of  the  pillow  is  the  never 
failing  hypnotic  bringing  seven  and  one-half  hours 
of  unalloyed  restoration — for  such,  the  ease  of 
rest  robs  the  strenuous  life  of  many  dangers. 

There  is  a  saving  ease  of  plenty.  Doubtless 
many  physically  defective,  who  live  with  injured 
lungs  or  hearts  or  inadequate  eliminative  organs, 
may  prolong  their  years  thru  the  immunities  which 
their  dollars  can  purchase.  But  as  we  have  seen, 
such  living  does  not  lengthen  maturity.  It  but  ex- 
tends age.  There  is  a  constructive  ease  of  plenty 
which  allows  the  man  of  talent  opportunity  to  de- 
velop his  literary  taste,  to  exploit  his  inventive 
genius,  to  devote  a  life-time  to  the  mitigation  of 
illness  and  the  sufferings  of  poverty,  to  utilize  to 
the  highest  his  individual  capacity  as  a  Builder. 

Accomplishment,  the  very  fact  of  having  suc- 
cessfully done,  gives  to  him  who  has  succeeded 
be  his  success  little  or  big,  a  modicum  of  ease.  A 
task  is  never  so  hard  the  second  time.  It  can  be 
done  with  that  minimum  of  effort,  which  stands 
for  large  economy,  the  fiftieth  time.  Each  pleased 
customer  increases  the  salesman's  ability  to  please 
other  customers.  Every  sermon  seriously  pre- 
pared and  fervently  rendered,  has  cleared  the  way, 
to  the  sincere  minister,  for  richer  fervour  and  bet- 
ter sermons.  The  young  surgeon's  first  operation 
is  done  at  a  prodigious  expenditure  of  nervous 
force.  A  hundred  possible  complications  threaten 


THE  EASE  THAT  DESTROYS  65 

each  step,  complications  which  never  materialize. 
Ease  of  mind  and  dexterity  of  movement  soon 
come,  till  at  last,  he  follows  his  art  with  the  ease 
of  mastery. 

But  the  most  manifest  of  all  ease  is  that  inher- 
ent in  strength.  The  example  may  be  trite  of  the 
brutality  of  putting  a  fifty-pound  knapsack  on  an 
invalid's  back  and  commanding  that  he  take  it  to 
the  top  of  the  hill.  He  does  it  at  the  risk  of  a 
fatal  hemorrhage,  or  compromises  forever  his 
chances  for  recovery.  That  mile  of  struggle  will 
stand  out  in  his  memory  as  a  tragedy  of  torture. 
For  the  six-foot  "dough-boy,"  who  has  so  long 
carried  his  accouterments  that  he  has  forgotten 
their  weight,  the  same  mile  of  climbing  would  slip 
from  memory  with  the  passing  of  a  pretty  girl,  or 
the  swallowing  of  a  good  "mess."  Does  this 
illustration  not  bring  clearly  home  to  each  of  us 
the  sanest,  cheapest  price  to  pay  for  ease?  Mul- 
titudes fail  because  they  assume  the  load,  not 
having  the  strength  nor  the  physical  development 
offered  by  efficient,  enduring  muscles.  They  need 
organs  and  vessels  toughened,  too,  as  capable  of 
standing  strain  as  the  dough-boy  of  carrying  his 
pack.  With  such  physical  equipment,  the  multi- 
tudes of  those  who  fall  by  the  way  would  be  decim- 
ated. 

And  we  must  not  forget  that  the  soul  needs  its 
ease,  without  which  prodigious  mental  capacity  or 
the  athlete's  strength  fails  thruout  the  span 
of  existence  to  provide  lasting  power.  In  some- 
thing better  than  ourselves  we  must  have  an  abid- 
ing faith,  if  the  spirit  is  to  rest  secure. 


66      OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

The  Ease  That  Destroys — Have  we  not  been 
considering  the  tonic  use  of  ease  in  each  instance 
so  far  discussed,  the  ease  which  adds  something 
to  strengthen  life  in  its  purposes  or  accomplish- 
ments I  But  there  is  a  reverse  side — really  the 
subject  of  our  chapter — in  which  ease  enters  life 
as  does  a  narcotic  drug,  to  dull  and  deaden,  to 
stultify,  to  lessen  our  contribution  to  passing  days, 
the  ease  that  destroys.  Plenty  may  save,  as  it 
frequently  does,  the  one  who  wins  it.  But  more 
often  it  destroys  those  who  obtain  it  without  ef- 
fort. Plenty  brings  the  ease  that  damns  the  char- 
acters of  those  who  live  contented,  parasitic  ab- 
sorbers of  the  efforts  of  others.  Deep  unhappi- 
ness  hovers  over  many  homes  of  wealth  in  which 
sons  and  daughters  and  often  wives,  too,  seek  the 
case  of  indolence.  It  is  a  deep-seated  law  of  our 
being  that  there  is  no  such  ease — that  the  one 
most  certain  road  to* the  disease  of  discontent, 
envy,  selfishness,  suspicion  and  disbelief  is  the  life 
of  indolence.  To  seek  ease  thru  systematic  avoid- 
ance of  effort,  duty  and  service  is  to  take  a  down- 
ward path,  one  which  shrivels  soul,  narrows  mind 
and  disorders  even  the  bodies  of  the  naturally 
strong.  Plenty  may  be  happiness-laden — it  may 
sow  the  pestilence. 

The  lazy  are  confessedly  persistent  seekers  after 
ease.  With  some  the  infirmity  of  laziness  affects 
the  body,  others  are  mentally  indolent.  Most  of 
us  find  ourselves  peculiarly  indifferent  to  certain 
tasks,  even  while  we  hold  a  reputation  for  industry. 
Son  fairly  devours  history,  but  barely  makes  his 
grades  in  English.  Daughter  will  practice  two 


THE  EASE  THAT  DESTROYS  67 

hours  a  day  without  need  of  suggestion,  while  her 
mending  accumulates  till  Mother  is  in  despair. 
But  Mother,  too,  has  the  fault.  She  administers 
her  household  with  irreproachable  zest — but  her 
correspondence!  " Whenever  will  she  answer?" 
complain  all  her  friends.  Father,  yes,  successful 
father,  is  the  worst  of  all.  He  is  a  minute-man  for 
business  punctuality — no  lapses  here — still  doc- 
tor, friends,  wife  and  an  annoying  digestion  fail 
week  after  week  to  get  him  out  on  the  links.  He 
won't  take  systematic  exercise  for  the  powers  that 
be,  or  even  to  ward  off  the  destruction  that  is 
creeping  upon  him. 

No  more  insidious  influence  enters  to  honey- 
comb character  than  our  surrender  of  more  and 
more  activities  to  the  ease  of  idleness.  The  writer 
recalls  an  impressive  illustration  in  connection 
with  the  preparation  of  a  camping  site.  It  was 
on  a  mountain  side — one  of  the  unequalled  South- 
ern Appalachian  heights.  Forty  medium  sized 
hickories,  as  straight  as  rays  of  light,  with  un- 
blemished barks  and  cream-white  trunks,  were 
felled  to  build  a  cabin.  The  work  was  interrupted. 
A  year  later  it  was  found,  even  on  this  dry  moun- 
tain-side, that  not  one  of  these  timbers,  so  perfect 
a  year  ago,  was  fit  for  building-use.  It  had  taken 
thirty  years  for  each  to  grow,  and  with  continued 
activity,  beauty  and  strength  and  utility  would 
have  continued  to  develop  for  another  thirty  years, 
but  twelve  months  of  uselessness  robbed  them  of 
their  virtues. 

Finally,  there  is  the  Coward's  ease,  and  a  pitiful 
lot  they  are  who,  surrendering  to  fear  of  pain, 


68      OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

count  the  multiplication  of  suffering ;  who,  to  avoid 
a  constructive  present  risk,  retreat  into  the 
clutches  of  more  certain  destructive  dangers. 
Multitudes  avoid  the  dentist  because  they  dread 
pain,  the  pain  of  his  saving  manipulations;  and 
teeth  which  by  early  treatment  could  have  been 
kept  living  and  useful  and  beautiful  many  years, 
decay  and  ache,  and  the  pain  is  assuaged  with  oil 
of  cloves;  and  other  teeth  go  the  same  way;  then 
an  infected  mouth  and  offensive  breath  are  fol- 
lowed by  diseased  gums  and  the  absorption  of 
health-damaging  poisons.  For  our  enlightened 
day,  fear  alone  can  explain  such  neglect.  Medical 
men  are  ascribing  a  group  of  life-shortening  sys- 
temic diseases  to  the  foul  poisons  which  an  infected 
mouth  contributes  to  the  whole  body.  Time  and 
again  the  family  physician  advises  the  removal  of 
diseased  tonsils  and  adenoids  from  the  throats  of 
children,  but  many  mothers  "can't  stand  the 
thought  of  an  operation,"  and  poorly  shapen  faces, 
imperfectly  developed  chests,  defective  resistance 
to  tuberculous  infection,  unmusical  voices  and 
years  of  fetid  breaths — and  worse — are  the  herit- 
age such  cowardly  mothers  force  upon  their  help- 
less ones. 

There  were  three  in  the  Williams  family — an 
honest,  hard-working  father,  a  nervous,  hard- 
working mother,  and  Minnie,  a  good  girl,  their 
only  child.  When  she  was  seven,  her  parents  took 
her  to  the  doctor's  office  because  of  her  mouth- 
breathing  and  "sore  throat."  They  were  ear- 
nestly advised  to  have  her  tonsils  removed.  The 
father  consented  at  once,  but  the  mother  later  sent 


THE  EASE  THAT  DESTROYS  69 

word  for  the  doctors  not  to  come,  as  she  couldn't 
' '  stand  it. '  *  "When  Minnie  was  eight  she  was  quite 
ill  for  six  weeks  with  inflammatory  rheumatism. 
Then  for  five  years  she  was  reasonably  well,  tho' 
never  robust.  Then  came  diphtheria — antitoxin 
— most  excellent  care.  The  doctor  was  grave 
from  the  first  examination,  for  he  found  the  child's 
heart  organically  injured — a  result  of  the  rheum- 
atism, and  this  a  result,  as  we  know  to-day,  of  in- 
fection absorbed  from  her  diseased  tonsils.  Min- 
nie seemed  to  be  doing  quite  well  the  morning  of 
the  fifth  day.  She  rose  on  her  elbow  and  started 
to  drink  some  water.  She  swallowed  once,  and 
crumpled  down  to  half  breathe  once  or  twice,  and 
shudder,  and  go — a  beautiful  promise  of  girlhood 
destroyed  by  a  coward's  demand  for  ease. 

The  most  common  ease,  the  ease  which  fairly 
coaxes  old  age,  is  that  which  permits  mature  men 
and  women  to  live  year  after  year  deprived  of  the 
daily  physical  exercise  without  which  the  tissues 
remain  oxygen-hungry  and  toxin-soaked.  The 
half-hour  a  day  spent  in  genuine,  intensive,  stren- 
uous muscle-work  changes  the  slow  moving  blood 
and  lymph  currents  into  surging,  renovating 
streams.  Water  in  the  fountain-basin,  forced  up- 
ward into  the  pure  air  and  sunlight  sparkles, 
many-hued,  in  its  freshness.  It  leaps  as  tho'  in 
gladness  to  purify  and  repurify  itself.  The  same 
water  transferred  to  a  swampy  pool  soon  becomes 
scum-covered, — an  infested,  infected  breeding 
place  for  slimy,  repulsive  life. 

Damaging  ease  of  mind  steals  early  into  the 
lives  of  many  after  school  days.  And  hosts  of  us 


70     OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

allow  our  superb  mentality,  so  magnificently  cap- 
able of  reaching  deeper  and  higher,  of  adding  un- 
derstanding to  understanding,  and  judgment  to 
judgment,  to  remain  shallow,  to  become  less  re- 
liable, until  it  is  but  a  mockery  of  what  it  might 
have  been.  And  this  dwarfing  is  the  price  we  pay 
for  neglecting  daily  to  give  memory,  ideation,  rea- 
son the  serious,  strenuous  half-hour  which  is  the 
least  price  at  which  a  growing  mind  can  be  pur- 
chased. 

Wilting,  sluggish  bodies,  pretending,  inaccurate, 
deficient  minds,  would  be  obviously  less  common 
if  we  but  let  Duty  speak  thru  our  souls,  if  we 
possessed  the  moral  backbone  to  daily  do  those 
difficult  half-hours  which  ease  decries  but  for 
which  an  enlightened  conscience  pleads.  Our 
sense  of  duty,  our  dictates  of  right,  our  obligations 
to  principle,  may  be  most  disquieting,  as  reiterated 
by  the  still,  small  voice — the  voice  we  all  have  to 
obey  or,  if  we  would  avoid  wretchedness  of  spirit, 
to  silence.  One  man  sand-bags  his  conscience — he 
hits  it  with  a  pint  of  whiskey  or  with  reckless 
dare-devil  associates,  or  a  hectic,  fervid,  unnatural 
life.  Others  hypnotize  their  consciences  by  fair 
promises,  by  the  putting  off  till  to-morrow — the 
"too  busy  to-day"  kind,  or  persuade  their  con- 
sciences that  they  have  found  a  better  way,  or 
let  the  arguments  or  ridicule  of  friends  or  the  ex- 
ample of  others  lull  them  into  a  false  security. 
Rarely,  the  conscience  is  murdered  outright. 
Sometimes  intelligent  men  and  women  deliberately 
barter  their  souls,  and  for  those  who  believe  in  a 


THE  EASE  THAT  DESTROYS  71 

spiritual  hereafter,  the  ease  that  destroys  is  most 
certain  for  them  who,  in  cold  blood,  with  calculat- 
ing forethought,  attempt  to  destroy  the  spirit 
within. 


CHAPTER  VII 
BLENDING  WORK  AND  PLAY 

The  Dignity  of  Work — The  worrier,  complainer 
and  cynic  are  one  in  discounting  life,  though 
worry,  complaints  and  cynicism  but  add  to  human 
burdens.  We  have  not  been  given  a  perfect  abid- 
ing place,  but  a  world  to  better  thru  human  ef- 
fort. We  are  supposed  to  be  co-workers  with  the 
Master  Builder.  Where  there  is  incompleteness 
we  may  add,  where  tardiness  we  may  hasten,  where 
damage  prevails  we  may  remedy.  Man's  call  to 
work,  the  highest  expression  of  his  earthly  activ- 
ity, is  so  clear  that  the  spiritually  deaf  alone  fail 
to  hear.  If  man's  earthly  business  is  to  grow  a 
soul  he  is  forced  to  enrich  the  days  by  doing.  He 
was  made  for  work.  How  marvelously  fashioned 
his  creative,  ambitious  mind  in  its  bewilderingly 
complicated,  yet  essentially  adaptable  body.  How 
perfectly  the  two  are  combined,  to  the  end  that 
man's  world  can  be  put  in  order ! 

In  the  soil  man  must  start.  Thru  ages  of  drudg- 
ing labor  many  accomplishments  are  to  be 
wrought.  The  mass  of  human  work  has  been,  and 
still  is,  physical  toil.  And  we  all  need  toil  of 
hands ;  thru  it  alone  comes  the  self-discipline  which 
makes  for  generous  power ;  in  it  is  born  an  under- 
standing of  the  masses  of  humanity  whose  produc- 

72 


BLENDING  WOEK  AND  PLAY  73 

tive  force  is  muscular,  not  mental.  Into  the  soil 
of  common  labor  should  every  pair  of  hands  delve 
— for  only  so  may  brains  and  labor  touch  and 
mutual  sympathy  and  respect  be  found.  But 
starting  in  the  soil,  labor  may  mount  till  it  reaches 
the  heavens  of  creative  power. 

It  would  seem  that  thru  the  unnumbered  lives 
of  large  character — products  of  years  of  honest 
toil — the  sacredness  of  work  would  impress  even 
the  thoughtless,  and  that  the  crime  of  shielding 
children  from  the  least  touch  of  drudgery  would 
be  impossible  to  even  parents  of  superficial  na- 
tures. But  the  shallow  snobbery  of  wealth  often 
binds  the  hands  of  its  youth  so  tightly,  thru  form- 
ative years,  that  like  paralytics  they  live  on,  not 
doing,  not  knowing,  to  breed  others  of  their  kind. 

The  burden  of  the  world's  work  faces  us  all. 
Each  generation  finds  new  tasks,  as  minds  and 
hearts  develop.  Reefs  and  shoals  threaten  and 
impede  navigation.  For  centuries  harbors  will  be 
deepened  and  dangerous  coasts  made  safe,  for  even 
the  immensity  of  the  sea  is  not  enough.  Country 
roads,  a  million  miles  of  them,  are  made  and  un- 
made, and  will  remain  but  temporary  until  toil 
converts  them  into  Appian  Ways  which  can  defy 
the  centuries.  And  city  streets  are  laid  and  dug 
up  and  widened  and  extended,  cleaned  and  re- 
cleaned,  yet  too  many  of  them  remain  rough  and 
unsanitary.  Remodeling,  renovating  and  repair- 
ing are  necessary  even  in  palaces  of  art,  while  who 
can  estimate  the  effort  requisite  to  clean  the 
world's  dirty  kitchens.  Crops  are  to  be  sown  and 
sown  again,  clothing  to  be  made,  remodeled,  re- 


74      OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

placed,  and  mending  and  meals  and  darning  and 
housecleaning  and  dishwashing — will  they  ever 
cease?  Much  of  the  work  of  man  consists  in 
carrying  himself  and  the  products  of  his  labor 
hither  and  thither.  He  is  everlastingly  going 
somewhere,  or  carrying  or  sending  his  belongings 
about,  and  his  trucks  and  trains,  sails  and  steamers 
are  ever  restless.  Then,  sermons  must  be  written, 
weekly  and  editorials,  daily,  and  ten  thousand 
records  a  minute  must  be  kept,  or  he  forgets.  Na- 
ture's  resources  in  air  and  sea  and  soil,  deeply 
hidden,  ceaselessly  beckon  to  increasing  effort  that 
man  may  turn  them  to  his  use,  even  as  do  the 
forces  of  nature  threaten  and  tantalize,  till  thru 
the  ages  strenuously  the  workers  have  wrought  to 
harness  them  for  human  protection,  as  well  as 
utilization.  Is  not  the  burden  of  the  world's  work, 
as  we  to-day  sense  it,  enough  to  utilize  the 
strength  of  the  living  and  of  countless  generations 
yet  to  be  f 

The  Curse  of  Work — Work  is  sacred.  Its  bur- 
den appeals  to  every  right-minded  man  and 
woman.  Still,  in  it,  we  find  a  curse.  Perf ector  of 
happiness,  it  too  has  fed  the  heart  of  wretchedness. 
We  have  seen  how  abundantly  God  has  provided  it 
for  all.  But  since  the  serpent  started  folks  to 
dallying,  some  have  done  no  work;  shifting  the 
burden  to  others,  they  have  created  the  vast 
classes  of  the  slavishly  overworked.  In  the  injus- 
tice of  the  division  of  labor  is  found  the  curse  of 
work.  And  the  arrogance  of  idleness  has  never 
failed  to  ultimately  develop  resentfulness  in  the 
subsidized  laborer,  until  to-day  labor  has  found 


BLENDING  WOBK  AND  PLAY  75 

strength  by  combining  its  forces,  and  in  finding 
strength  is  finding  arrogance,  too — and  resentful- 
ness  and  arrogance  created  the  commune.  And 
who  shall  say  that  there  is  not  a  righteousness  in 
arrogance  and  resentment  and  communism  so  long 
as  there  remain  a  favored  few  too  proud  or  too 
lazy  to  share  humanity's  burdens? 

Even  a  greater  curse  defeats  the  individual 
worker  when  his  attitude  toward  his  task  becomes 
unsavory.  Lacking  devotion,  he  learns  his  work 
poorly,  and  a  poor  workman  is  dissatisfied  and 
unsatisfactory,  and  inevitably  creates  an  atmos- 
phere which  poisons  wholesome  relationships. 
Unmethodical  and  disorderly  workers  by  the  thou- 
sands are  able  to-day,  thru  protection  of  organiza- 
tions formerly  admitting  only  capable,  conscien- 
tious artisans,  to  exact  unearned  and  excessive 
wages — nor  can  dishonesty  beget  honesty ! 

Again,  the  many  add  viciousness  to  their  daily 
toil  thru  doing  the  disagreeable  disagreeably. 
Most  of  us  fail  to  brighten  with  the  high  lights 
of  cheer  the  unpleasant  task  which  may,  for  the 
time,  be  our  lot,  forgetting  that  a  background  of 
idealism  makes  a  beautiful  setting  into  which  melt 
and  harmonize  the  grime  of  the  forge,  the  dust  of 
traffic  and  the  smoke  of  factories.  Toil  of  body 
or  of  brain  lacking  in  idealism  saps  youth  betimes 
and  brings  on  that  senility  which  makes  its  old 
age  sordid. 

When  Play  is  Idealism — What  do  we  mean  by 
idealism?  More  than  can  be  told.  But,  in  part, 
and  a  saving  part  we  think — idealism  is  play. 
Play  life  is  always  "make-believe"  life,  and  we 


76      OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

always  " make-believe"  the  things  which  we  want 
and  haven't.  Little  girls  haven't  babies,  so  they 
play  with  dolls.  Their  mothers  "shoo"  them  out 
of  the  kitchen,  so  their  custard  pies  are  made  with 
mud.  Little  boys  are  kept  out  of  danger,  so  they 
"make-believe"  Indian  fights  and  stage  "Wild 
West  Shows"  in  the  barn,  converting  poor  puss 
into  a  ravening  lion  and  puny  younger  brothers 
into  cowboys  bold.  Their  elders  rarely  stake  their 
homes  and  fortunes  and  wives  in  games  of  chance, 
as  did  the  sports  of  antiquity,  but  sit  hour  after 
hour  developing  lesser  thrills  thru  the  imaginary 
winnings  of  fortunate  evenings  in  whist.  Instead 
of  gladiatorial  combats  in  which  primitive  pas- 
sions were  sated  by  the  copious  spilling  of  human 
blood,  the  virile  thousands  to-day  sit  with  bated 
breath,  or  rend  the  welkin  with  their  frenzied 
"rootings,"  as  warriors  on  diamond  and  gridiron 
crash  and  win  and  lose.  Play  is  idealism — the 
idealism  which  every  son  of  Adam  and  daughter 
of  Eve  has  needed. 

The  Profit  of  Play — As  heaven-crying  injustice 
has  grown  out  of  the  division  of  work,  even  so,  in 
the  division  of  play.  Some  overplay,  others  never 
play.  As  play  itself  can  never  be  a  true  end  of 
existence,  he  that  overplays  is  shirking  work,  while 
he  that  underplays  is  a  slave  to  his  work.  The 
reader,  methinks,  needs  play.  Otherwise  he 
wouldn't  be  thinking  of  growing  old.  He  prob- 
ably is  one  of  that  serious  majority  who  believes 
he  is  "  breaking  down  from  overwork,"  while  in 
bald  truth  he  is  aging  because  the  spirit  of  play 
has  gone  from  him.  Body,  mind  and  soul  are  re- 


BLENDING  WORK  AND  PLAY  77 

freshed  and  kept  young  by  the  play  that  stim- 
ulates and  does  not  sate.  Physical  health  and 
stamina  increase  the  productiveness  of  all  work- 
ers. They  can  add  something  to  the  delicacy  of 
the  painter 's  brush  or  the  deftness  of  the  seam- 
stress's needle,  to  the  cleverness  of  the  architect's 
pencil  and  to  the  certainty  of  philosophic  reason- 
ing. It  is  one  of  the  misfortunes  of  work  that 
comparatively  few  occupations  develop  the  body 
and  keep  it  young,  strong  and  flexible.  So  we 
need  a  daily  hour  given  to  the  play  which  keeps 
joint  and  sinew,  heart,  bone  and  muscle,  young — 
the  play  which  holds  sensitiveness  to  jars  and 
jolts,  to  the  temperature  changes  of  the  fickle 
weather,  to  the  minor  discomforts  normal  to 
daily  life  reservedly  in  the  background.  How  few 
at  sixty,  how  many  at  forty,  would  risk  their 
precious  bones  sliding  head  first,  or  even  feet  first 
down  a  flight  of  steps'?  So  far  from  this  tough- 
ness is  Mr.  Average-man  at  forty  that  if  he  slips 
on  an  icy  walk  he  is  out  of  the  office  with  a 
wrenched  back  for  several  days.  The  same  fall 
for  his  father  at  sixty,  and  a  broken  hip  will  prob- 
ably incapacitate  him  for  months.  Yet,  father  and 
grandfather  laugh  without  restraint  as  Johnny, 
learning  to  skate,  goes  down  resoundingly  time 
and  again.  Johnny  is  young.  The  other  two  are 
old !  But  a  few  minutes'  eager,  effortful  daily  ex- 
ercise continued  thru  the  years  would  have  kept 
grandfather  as  independent  as  Johnny.  We  for- 
get that  bones,  even  as  muscles,  weaken  thru  dis- 
use, and  that  brittle  bones  at  sixty  are  as  untimely 
as  shrunken  muscles.  To-day,  past  seventy-five,  a 


78      OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

physical  trainer  of  national  note,  leading  his  class 
of  men,  disdainfully  pushes  young  and  middle-aged 
till  they  are  panting  and  frazzled,  he  alone  remain- 
ing fresh,  for  he  has  not  been  out  of  training  since 
his  youth. 

Power  of  endurance  which  may  be  developed 
thru  play  goes  hand  in  hand  with  the  strengthen- 
ing of  will  which  is  one  of  the  rich  rewards  of 
persistent  bodily  effort.  And  both  muscles  and 
mind  can,  in  a  large  sense,  be  made  obedient  to 
the  dictates  of  the  masterful  will. 

There  is,  too,  the  spiritual  need  for  play.  The 
strength  and  reserve  which  well  up  from  every 
part  of  the  body  of  a  muscularly  fit  man  saturate 
the  indwelling  soul  with  the  peace  of  confidence. 
They  are  elements  of  spiritual  hygiene  of  supreme 
significance.  Again,  let  us  grown-ups  remember 
that  the  unexpressed  does  not  long  survive. 
Every  day  that  we  deny  the  appeal  of  the  spirit  of 
play,  we  are  turning  from  a  stimulating  presence 
which,  when  we  know  in  its  fulness,  is  able  to 
brighten  each  hour,  to  make  more  perfect  each 
task,  even  to  wipe  out  the  curse  of  work. 

Children  play  with  their  minds  and  bodies. 
They  perfect  the  art.  Long  before  mid-life  most 
of  us  have  ceased  any  physical  play-habits.  Such 
playing  as  we  do  is  usually  of  the  mind.  Chess 
and  whist,  for  the  mentally  trained ;  checkers  and 
dominoes,  euchre  and  flinch  for  the  run  of  folks; 
gossip  and  fault-finding  for  most  of  the  rest. 
Some  play  with  explosives.  The  '  *  insane  Fourth ' ' 
maimed  and  killed  for  a  century  and  a  quarter. 
Gambling  is  often  like  the  gun  that  ''wasn't 


BLENDING  WOKK  AND  PLAY  79 

loaded"  It  destroys  the  innocent.  Impulse  for 
gratification,  desire  to  get  away  from  the  tedium 
of  work,  untaught  or  unthinking  abandon  make 
possible  the  reckless  hour  which  may  blight  a  life- 
time. Others,  more  deliberately  plan,  and  make 
of  life — that  sacred,  beautiful  gift — a  mere  play- 
thing, and  they,  too,  find  the  curse,  even  as  do  the 
slaves  of  toil.  Life,  while  far  from  being  a  play- 
thing, is  a  game  which  the  true  sport  plays  to  the 
finish.  Winning  or  losing  in  strength,  victimized 
by  disease,  succeeding  in  business  or  failing, 
gamely  he  plays  it  on.  The  true  sport  will  never 
show  the  traits  of  the  quitter ;  he  finds  a  richness 
in  life  that  answers  every  appeal  of  his  spirit. 
For  him  life  is  a  perfect  drama.  Why  do  so  many 
fail  to  hold  this  great  truth  of  highest  living  close? 
Getting  into  Condition — Some  have  never  fitted 
themselves  for  play.  Others  have  long  since 
ceased  to  be  fit.  The  first  principle  necessary  for 
all  who  would  add  youth  to  years,  is  to  get  into 
physical  condition.  For  the  soggy  and  the  soft, 
and  that  is  most  of  them,  getting  fit  means  some 
months  of  gradually  increasing,  intensive,  special 
training.  For  many,  expert  advice  is  needed. 
Some  physicians  are  qualified  to  give  this,  tho' 
many,  unfortunately,  have  visioned  only  the  med- 
icinal equation  in  their  far-reaching  art.  The  Y. 
M.  C.  A.  and  Y.  W.  C.  A.  are  training  physical 
directors  as  experts  in  giving  safe  advice  to  the 
average  man  or  woman  seriously  planning  to  go 
into  training  for  health.  Most  magazines  carry 
advertisements  of  "wonderful  systems"  of  home 
gymnastics.  But  whoever  the  adviser,  the  indi- 


80      OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

vidual  must  be  prepared  for  days  of  wretchedly 
sore  muscles,  for  hours  of  fatigue  which,  to  unac- 
customed nerves,  will  seem  like  the  warnings  of  im- 
pending illness — for  the  only  exercise  that  counts 
is  that  which  temporarily  brings  sore  muscles  and 
almost  incapacitating  lassitude.  Most  any  man  or 
woman  not  seriously  damaged  organically,  who 
eats  right  and  works  right,  can  get  himself  as  hard 
as  nails  by  two  hours  spent  in  a  good  gymnasium 
daily  for  six  months ;  or  in  four  months  by  devot- 
ing five  hours  a  day  to  genuine  muscular  work  on 
a  farm.  Six  weeks  of  true  "roughing  it"  on  sea- 
shore, in  mountain  or  woodland,  averaging  ten 
miles  a  day  of  active  tramping,  cooking,  eating  and 
sleeping  out-of-doors,  with  an  hour  devoted  to 
calisthenics,  gradually  becoming  intensive — even 
though  limited  to  the  simple  exercises  below  de- 
scribed— will  turn  the  trick.  It  makes  little  differ- 
ence how  we  get  ourselves  to  the  point  where 
fatigue  is  not  exhaustion,  when  we  can  force  every 
muscle  of  our  bodies  to  its  capacity  again  and 
again  and  not  tear  it  down  but  build  it  up.  When 
we  can  pant  like  the  hound,  hot  on  the  trail,  and 
feel  our  hearts  going  at  triple  speed  like  the  run- 
ners of  the  Derby,  when  we  can  put  surrender  to 
bone-aching  weariness,  the  fear  of  mere  physical 
pain  and  the  more  common  fear  of  wrecked  dia- 
phragms and  damaged  hearts  into  the  scrapheap 
of  our  cast-off  weaknesses — then  we  are  fit! 
From  now  on  keeping  fit  is  a  matter  of  one  hour 
a  day — and  moral  backbone ! 

How  to  Keep  Fit — The  following  program  is 
simple,  essentially  practical,  and  has  proven  last- 


BLENDING  WORK  AND  PLAY  81 

ingly  effective  in  the  lives  of  men  and  women  of 
various  ages  and  degrees  of  natural  vigor.  Let 
the  day  start  with  its  greatest  physical  victory  be- 
fore the  appointed  hour  has  ceased  striking.  The 
blandishments  of  pillows  and  sheets  are  foresworn. 
The  bath  mat  and  bathrobe  are  adequate  acces- 
sories and  uniform  for  the  fifteen  minutes  of  most 
strenuous  effort  the  day  is  to  know.  And  so 
started,  what  terrors  have  the  days,  when  you  are 
confident  that  there  will  be  no  challenge  to  your 
strength  from  an  outside  source  which  will  equal 
the  demands  you  have  voluntarily  laid  upon  your- 
self;  that  the  kitchen  and  the  store  and  the  count- 
ing-room, the  hours  with  the  sick,  have  no  in- 
tensities equal  to  that  which  you  have  already  de- 
manded of  yourself,  that  you  are  your  own  task- 
master— not  Life?  Thus  is  the  freedom  of 
strength  willed  and  earned!  The  tooth-brushing 
might  come  first.  It  is  next  in  refreshment  to  the 
bath.  Then,  within  range  of  an  open  window,  you 
take  the  soldier's  position  of  "attention."  Not 
"head  up  and  shoulders  back,"  as  we  used  to  be 
taught,  but  with  chin  well  retracted  (drawn  back 
and  in),  neck,  chest  and  shoulders  will  fall  into 
right  lines — now  you  lay  the  whip  to  the  sources 
of  vitality.  One  hundred  toe-extensions,  (Illus- 
tration No.  1)  honest  ones,  clear  up,  the  last  thirty 
so  rapidly  that,  no  matter  how  many  years  you 
have  done  them,  you  feel  a  stab  in  the  calf  muscles. 
And  with  the  last  fifty,  circumduct  the  elbows  vig- 
orously, (Illustration  No.  2)  one  circle  with  each 
extension.  Then  put  in  five  or  ten,  or  if  you  are 
unusually  strong,  fifteen  "pull-ups"  or  "chins," 


82      OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 


ILLUSTRATION  I 

Fig.  1  Fig.  2 

The  position   of   attention  Toe  extensions.     Hands  may 

be  raised  each  time  as  in  Fig.  2 
or  the  exercise  taken  with 
hands  on  hips  and  arms  akimbo. 

as  the  boys  say,  (Illustration 
No.  3)  on  the  little  home-made 
bar  you  have  rigged  up  in  your 
room.  Some  women  can  "pull- 
up,"  too,  and  it  is  a  splendid 
exercise  for  them.  But  many 
women  and  some  men  must  de- 
velop their  arm  muscles  by  prac- 
tising for  the  early  weeks  on  a 
low  bar,  placed  so  they  can  pull 
themselves  up  from,  first  a 
seated,  then  from  a  crouching, 
position — thus  allowing  the  leg 
muscles  to  help  the  arms  till  they 


ILLUSTRATION  II 
Toe    extension 
with  circumduction 

of  arms. 


BLENDING  WORK  AND  PLAY  83 


ILLUSTRATION  III 
Fig.  1  Fig.  2 

The  "  pull  up  "  or  "  chinning."    Backs  of  hands 
may  be  turned  forward  if  the  exercise  is  easier 

become  strong.  Simply  hanging  from  the  bar  by 
the  hands,  and  trying  to  "chin"  uses  chest,  shoul- 
der and  back  muscles  actively.  And  no  one 
should  be  satisfied  until  he  can  hang  from  the  bar 
and  slowly  elevate  his  feet  to  right  angles  with 
the  body,  with  the  legs  stiff  and  straight,  (Illus- 
tration No.  4).  This  wrings  weakness  out  of  the 
abdominal  muscles.  You  will  be  panting  now,  so 
ease  up  with  ten  body-flexions,  which  means  throw- 
ing yourself  forward,  knees  straight,  till  your  fin- 
gers touch  the  floor — ten  times,  with  "pep,"  (Illus- 
tration No.  5).  Some  deep-breathing  you  are  do- 
ing by  now,  the  lung-proofing  kind.  Then  the  ex- 


84     OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 


ILLUSTRATION  IV 

Fig.  1  Fig.  2  Fig.  3 

The   "pull  up"   with   legs   at   right   angles,   to   strengthen 

abdominal  muscles 

ercise  for  the  back  and  pushing  muscles.    You  will 
soon  learn  at  what  distance  from  the  wall  to  stand, 


ILLUSTRATION  V 

Fig.  1  Fig.  2 

Body  flexions.    Keep  knees  straight! 


BLENDING  WORK  AND  PLAY  85 

far  enough  always  to  bring  forth  a  real  strain  of 
effort  to  regain  the  perpendicular  as  you  fall  for- 
ward, and  with  back  and  arm  muscles  force  your- 
self upright.  (Illustration  No.  6.)  Ten  times 


ILLUSTRATION  VI 

Fig.  1 
First  position  for  "  push  out "  from  wall 

this,  the  last  four,  inching  farther  away  until  it 
takes  all  your  strength — and  a  grunt — to  make  it. 
And  now,  if  you  are  a  man  and  shave  yourself,  it 's 
a  good  time  to  get  your  wind.  But  what  shall  a 
woman  do?  Make  use  of  a  "breathing  spell"  to 
"do  up"  her  hair — at  all  events,  be  ready  for  the 
master  single  exercise  of  them  all — the  "spread- 
eagle."  This  requires  practice.  It  may  take  you 
months  to  get  it  "in  form"  if  you  have  neglected 
active  muscular  use  for  years  and  the  hinges  are 
rusty.  Chin  back,  erect  posture,  up  on  your  toes, 


86      OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 


ILLUSTRATION  VI 

Fig.  2 
Second  position  "  push  out 


ILLUSTRATION  VI 

Fig.  3 
Third  position  on  return  from  "  push  out 


BLENDING  WOKK  AND  PLAY 


87 


sink  down  until  you  are  squatting  on  your  heels, 
if  able,  keeping  the  body  erect.  As  you  go  down 
allow  the  arms,  extended,  to  rise  above  the  head. 
(Illustration  No.  7.)  Return  to  standing  position, 
and  as  you  come  up  lower  the  stiffly  straightened 


ILLUSTRATION  VII 

Fig.  1  Fig.  2  Fig.  3 

Position  of      Part  way  down  Entirely     down, 

attention,  up  then  return  to  at- 

on  toes.  tention. 

The  Spread  Eagle. 

arms  behind  the  hips.  When  you  are  soft  ten 
times  is  enough — too  much  for  your  comfort  the 
following  day.  Fifty  times,  yes,  sixty,  often  sev- 
enty, and  occasionally,  eighty  without  stopping,  is 
the  capacity  for  men  and  women  in  condition. 
Most  athletes  are  satisfied  with  one  hundred. 
Now,  your  thighs  are  throbbing.  They  may  feel 
numb.  You  are  gasping,  as  you  should.  You  are 
almost  faint,  and  things  look  misty.  And  this  is 
well — when  you  are  fit.  Now  for  the  tub,  cold  or 
cool,  at  whatever  temperature  you  have  developed 


88      OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

the  ability  to  react  from  promptly ;  and  with  heart 
pumping  one-hundred-and-forty  times  a  minute, 
such  a  heart  as  you  now  have,  your  power  of  re- 
action, which  means  only  the  re-establishing  of 
skin  circulation,  is  a  certain  thing.  Then  on  the 
bath-mat,  as  you  vigorously  rub  dry — and  a  linen 
Turkish  towel  is  best — time  is  saved  and  reaction 


ILLUSTRATION  VIII 

Fig.  1  Fig.  2  Fig.  3  Fig.  4 

The  Spread  Eagle  with  spring  into  air  from  squatting  position 

assured  by  combining  toe-extensions,  another  one- 
hundred,  with  the  drying  process.  Now,  warm 
and  glowing — the  triumphant  finishing  touch — 
ten  spread-eagles  with  a  spring — fast  as  you  can, 
go  down  and  leap  up.  (Illustration  No.  8.)  In- 
stead of  this  last  most  strenuous  effort,  one-hun- 
dred strides,  counting  the  left  foot  only,  of  station- 
ary running,  may  be  vigorously  done.  Chin  back 
and  standing  in  one  place,  go  thru  the  motions  of 
running,  lifting  the  knees  high  and  treading  only 
on  the  balls  of  the  feet.  This  is  another  most  ex- 


BLENDING  WORK  AND  PLAY 


89 


cellent  single  exercise  for  legs,  breathing  appar- 
atus and  heart.     (Illustration  No.  9.) 


ILLUSTRATION  IX 

Fig.  1  Fig.  2 

Stationary  running 

This  program  stands  for  intensive  work.  It  is 
intended  to  be  strenuous.  It  is  opposed  to  many 
systems  of  physical  culture.  It  has  four  decided 
advantages.  It  is  economical  in  time,  it  develops 
will  and  muscle,  it  promotes  reserve  and  holds  fast 
to  health.  The  one-hundred  toe-extensions  and 
fifty  spread-eagles  must,  of  course,  be  arrived  at 
gradually.  This  is  supposed  to  have  been  done  in 
getting  fit. 

After  undressing  at  bed-time,  the  morning  pro- 
gram should  be  repeated,  omitting  part  of  the  toe- 
extensions,  the  spread-eagles  with  a  spring  and 
the  stationary  running.  Ten  minutes'  work  be- 
fore bed-time  will  be  plenty  if  the  fifteen  minute 
morning-program  has  been  done.  In  addition,  the 


90      OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

thirty  minutes  out-of-doors,  with  a  four-pound 
medicine-ball  for  women,  or  a  six-pound  one  for 
men,  will  round  out  a  physically  righteous  day. 
And,  with  the  medicine-ball,  missionary  work  is 
possible.  The  wife,  the  cook,  the  neighbor's  boy, 
the  neighbor  himself,  will  often  take  with  you  that 
health-bearing  half-hour — the  only  real  muscle- 
training  and  vitality-restoring  activity  which  their 
daily  life  will  know.  Eating  sanely,  exercising 
thus  strenuously,  reserving  two  weeks  in  the  year 
for  a  genuine  "roughing-it"  outing — and  the  road 
to  physical  health  is  wide  open.  One  year  of  such 
life  means  strength,  ten  years  health,  thirty  years 
the  vital  reserve  which  marks  the  rare  man  or 
woman. 

Some  are  so  situated  that  they  may  spend  a 
vigorous,  refreshing  half-hour  in  the  water — and 
this  is  good.  Six  sets  of  live  tennis  a  week,  dis- 
tributed between  two  or  three  matches,  is  a  most 
superior,  vigor-increasing  sport.  It  is  unfortun- 
ately practical  the  year  round  for  all  too  few. 
Golf  is  growing  in  popularity,  and  with  many 
wholesome  reasons.  If  taken  in  addition  to  sys- 
tematic strenuous  morning  and  evening  exercise, 
it  leaves  little  to  be  desired  as  an  out-of-door  ac- 
tivity. But  too  many  are  making  the  fatal  mis- 
take of  depending  upon  golf  alone  to  keep  them 
young,  believing  that  nine  or  eighteen  holes  once 
or  twice  a  week  stand  for  adequate,  constructive, 
physical  effort.  It  takes  more  than  golf  to  make 
and  keep  one  fit. 

The  gymnasium  has  been  mentioned.  Under  a 
live  instructor  three  one  hour  classes  weekly,  in- 


BLENDING  WORK  AND  PLAY  91 

eluding  some  hand-ball  or  "squash "  with  rigorous 
adherence  to  the  room-exercises  so  insistently 
recommended  will  solve  the  " keeping  muscles  fit" 
problem  for  many. 

Blending  Work  and  Play — It  is  a  question 
whether  the  human  being  exists  who  can,  year 
after  year,  thus  order  his  life  into  orderliness  with- 
out consciously  or  unconsciously  attaining  the 
magnificent  ability  to  blend  work  and  play.  His 
capacity  for  enjoyment — this  wholesome,  healthy 
man — becomes  ten-fold  that  of  his  defectively  liv- 
ing neighbor.  He  has  put  seriousness  into  his 
play-life  and  joy  into  his  work-life.  He  has  held 
before  him  the  ideal  of  personal  efficiency.  With 
health  and  vital  reserve,  he  has  steadily  grown 
more  efficient,  and  efficiency  makes  play  of  work. 
Lover-like,  he  has  intensively  wooed  Hygeia,  the 
goddess;  he  has  made  his  workshop  a  trysting- 
place  with  Inspiration. 

Voltaire,  the  brilliant,  the  imaginative,  finely 
and  discerningly  said:  "Work  can  take  the 
place  of  all  the  illusions  we  lose."  In  truth,  are 
not  the  satisfactions  which  devotion  to  the  chosen 
task  brings,  more  perfect  realities,  more  genuine 
pleasures,  than  tantalizing  dreams — the  fancies  of 
youth  1  So,  shall  we  not  leave  off  worrying  and  go 
on  working — for  emanating  from  our  work-play 
days  will  ever  come  a  moral  influence  inseparable 
from  the  conviction  of  the  sacredness  of  our  task. 
And  all  work,  in  ditch  or  in  presidential  chair,  is 
sacred,  when  we  labor  not  as  menial  servitors,  or 
as  arrogant  masters,  but  as  fellow-workers. 


CHAPTER  Vin 
RENEWING  ONE'S  YOUTH 

Ethan  Allen  Davis  was  born  in  1855  on  the  Davis 
Farm,  between  Sugargrove  and  Lottsville,  just  off 
the  Penn-York  State  line — a  hilly  fifty  acres  and 
stony,  thin  of  soil — a  poor  man's  farm.  Ethan 
was  one  of  eight  children,  five  of  whom  bore  the 
names  of  American  Revolutionary  generals,  while 
the  three  girls  revealed  by  their  Biblical  naming 
the  religiousness  of  the  Davis  family. 

Eight  children  in  the  little  five-room,  unpainted, 
weather-beaten  house  built  back  from  the  road  on 
the  beweeded,  clayey  hillside  near  the  spring  be- 
low the  barn — below  the  barn!  So  Rebeccah, 
Israel  Putnam  and  Horatio  Gates  were  one  after 
another  carried  up  beyond  the  orchard — pathetic 
little  funerals  they  were — to  be  buried,  each  hav- 
ing died  of  the  ' 'fever.' ' 

But  Ethan  Allen  thrived  on  the  work — from 
sun-up  to  dark,  on  the  monotonous  diet,  the  ex- 
posure and  long  cold  winters,  the  blistering  sum- 
mers, with  little  play.  Faithfully,  till  he  was 
twenty-one,  he  stayed  at  home.  Somehow,  the 
farm  had  grown  to  nearly  one-hundred  acres — the 
Davises  now  owned  some  of  the  old  Mears*  bottom- 
land— and  when  Ethan  was  of  age  and  asked  to 
go  to  the  great  Centennial  Exposition  at  Phila- 
delphia and  to  try  for  a  job  in  the  city,  his  father 

92 


RENEWING  ONE'S  YOUTH  93 

gave  him  $150.00  and,  almost  tenderly,  hoped  him 
"good  luck." 

And  "good  luck"  it  was  to  be,  most  of  us  would 
say.  Ethan  Allen  Davis  was  a  sturdy,  sterling 
young  fellow,  six  feet  one,  one-hundred-ninety- 
pounds,  every  ounce  of  which  was  vital  tissue ;  sim- 
ple, direct,  gentle,  clear-thinking — he  could  only 
be  charged  with  being  "too  honest,"  tho'  he  was 
never  taken  advantage  of  the  second  time  save  by 
his  wife,  who  thru  the  years  flayed  her  considerate 
husband  mercilessly,  utilizing  to  the  limit  the 
rights  conferred  on  her  by  matrimony  to  demand 
and  exact  comforts,  luxuries,  immunities,  prefer- 
ences, indulgences  and  devotion  without  stint. 

But  we  are  turning  the  pages  too  rapidly. 
Ethan  spent  five  days  and  twelve  of  his  guarded 
dollars  in  Philadelphia  at  the  Exposition,  then  set 
out  to  find  work.  Trenton  this  year  was  celebrat- 
ing the  bi-centennial  of  its  first  settlement,  also 
the  hundredth  anniversary  of  Washington's  bril- 
liant coup  which  captured  one  thousand  Hessian 
invaders,  with  the  loss  of  two  Americans.  In 
Ethan's  simple  home-life  his  father's  stories  of  the 
War  of  Independence  and  its  heroes  had  made 
Trenton  a  Mecca  and  a  shrine.  So,  in  perfect  con- 
tent, he  accepted  a  dollar  a  day  to  shovel  and  mix, 
in  a  Trenton  pottery.  Contented  he  always  re- 
mained with  whatever  salary  he  received,  tho '  am- 
bition wakened  early  and  for  long  years  never 
rested,  ambition  to  understand  his  work  and  to 
find  better  methods  of  doing  it.  He  was  at  once 
fascinated  with  the  art  in  which  he  was  now  but 
a  menial  helper.  His  senses  were  ever  alert,  his 


94      OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

quiet  queries  became  more  and  more  pertinent. 
He  bought  some  books ;  he  made  friends  with  the 
older  men ;  he  was  advanced  to  the  firing  depart- 
ment ;  he  spent  his  spare  time  in  the  modeling  and 
decorating  rooms,  and  later  saw  a  design  of  his 
own  creating  used  on  a  "new  shape"  which  the 
firm  advertised  as  "rivalling  the  finest  French 
china."  Ethan  was  only  twenty-seven  when  he 
was  made  foreman  of  the  Decorating  Department, 
with  a  salary  of  one  thousand  a  year — then  came 
his  misfortune. 

Hattie  Evans's  father  owned  a  pottery,  too. 
He  was  Welsh,  and  had  wrought  thru  the  years  dil- 
igently for  the  moderate  success  which  made  it 
possible  for  his  wife  and  Hattie  to  live  in  com- 
fortable idleness.  The  daughter,  ever  freshly 
dressed,  plump,  active,  with  snapping  black  eyes, 
milk-white  teeth,  and  a  pretty  face  which  always 
beamed  when  Ethan  was  near,  captivated  the 
young  designer,  and  he  was  hers  to  use  or  abuse 
from  the  first  touch  of  hands.  Hattie 's  mother 
had  plans,  and  objected.  Hattie  thought  she  was 
in  love,  and  became  obdurate.  The  father  saw  the 
man  and  the  potter  in  Ethan  Davis.  It  was  three 
ayes  to  one  nay — so  the  ayes  had  it. 

The  young  man's  joy  w£s  unalloyed,  till  after 
the  wedding.  Within  a  year  he  realized  his  young 
wife  was  a  woman  without  a  vision.  She  lived 
only  for  the  day  and  what  its  hours  brought. 
Love  for  him,  devotion  to  parents,  the  inspiration 
of  patriotism,  which  had  meant  so  much  in  his  life, 
loyalty,  ideals — these  were  not  hers ;  nor  was  she 
ever  to  be  blest  by  their  uplift.  All  of  this  was 


RENEWING  ONE'S  YOUTH  95 

not  revealed  to  the  young  husband  during  any 
single  hour  of  disillusionment,  but  within  a  twelve- 
month of  married  life  he  found  himself  facing  the 
problem  of  living  successfully  a  lifetime  with  a 
woman  miserably  empty  of  heart  and  soul,  when 
compared  with  his  own  plain-faced,  unlettered 
mother.  But  he  faced  this  discrediting  handicap 
manfully.  He  had  realised  his  wife's  deficiencies, 
as  he  now  knew,  too  late.  He  never  censured; 
censure  could  not  have  helped.  He  confided  no 
syllable  which  might  have  secured  him  temporarily 
comforting  sympathy,  nor  any  syllable  of  crit- 
icism, for  she  could  only  have  resented  and  replied 
in  kind.  His  own  estimate  of  his  wife  was  never 
voiced,  and  he  buried  his  disappointment  and  lone- 
liness and  the  sense  of  the  emptiness  in  his  home, 
deep  in  a  grave  which  he  felt  would  hold  them  fast 
— buried  them  under  his  reverence  for  the  ideal  he 
had  thought  her  to  be,  under  patience  and  long- 
suffering  gentleness,  under  a  kindly  understand- 
ing of  what  she  was  not,  under  a  devotion  which 
millions  of  faithful  and  worthy  wives  have  never 
been  given.  What  money  would  buy  seemed  her 
only  conception  of  happiness — so  he  made 
money.  He  gave  up  his  designing  save  at  odd 
times.  His  father-in-law  was  growing  old,  and 
rapidly  turned  over  the  business  management  of 
the  small  factory  to  the  young  man,  who  saw 
wisely  and  dreamed  wisely  and  learned  to  work 
with  tremendous  energy.  When  Ethan  was 
thirty  the  firm's  name  was  changed  to  ''Evans  and 
Davis" — the  name  which  has  stood  for  so  much 
that  is  honorable  and  artistic,  advanced  and  sue- 


96      OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

cessful,  in  the  field  of  American  pottery.  At  forty 
Ethan  constituted  the  firm.  A  score  of  active 
young  men  had  been  given  an  interest  in  the  rap- 
idly growing  concern,  and  Mrs.  Davis  had  the  use 
of  all  the  money  which  her  little  heart  craved. 
Even  at  thirty-six  her  charm  had  waned  badly,  with 
no  promise  that  a  beautifying  spirit  would  soften 
the  wrinkles  which  selfishness  was  deepening. 

When  Mr.  Davis  was  fifty  he  was  more  than  a 
millionaire — there  were  now  two  potteries  an- 
nually turning  out  an  immense  product.  For 
nearly  twenty  years  his  brains  and  fingers  alone 
had  worked.  He  had  gained  in  weight  and  obvi- 
ously in  girt.  His  vacations  consisted  of  trips  to 
France  and  England,  where  he  studied  the  meth- 
ods of  other  great  manufacturers  of  iron-stone  and 
porcelain.  Mrs.  Davis  always  went  with  him  and 
spent  many  American  dollars  for  much  European 
finery.  Gradually,  their  style  of  living  had  be- 
come more  and  more  elaborate,  and  they  had 
reached  the  footman  stage  of  social  development 
when  something  went  wrong  in  the  back  of  Mr. 
Davis'  head.  He  had  learned  no  method  of  relax- 
ation; his  pleasures  were  active  participation  in 
his  work  which  had  developed  so  remarkably,  and 
a  passive  interest  in  his  wiiVs  bids  for  recognition 
in  progressive  strata  of  society.  Protective  work 
with  his  hands  and  rejuvenating  play  of  mind  or 
body  he  had  not  known.  For  a  number  of  months 
he  had  found  himself  from  time  to  time  pressing 
the  back  of  his  head  with  his  large  and  still  strong 
hands.  The  spring  he  was  fifty-one  he  realized 
that  this  discomfort  was  interfering  with  his  clear- 


RENEWING  ONE'S  YOUTH  97 

ness  of  thought,  that  short  periods  of  concentra- 
tion intensified  the  sensation,  and  his  good  sense 
told  him  that  he  was  not  doing  justice  to  the  prob- 
lems which  were  brought  to  him.  Complaint  in 
the  Davis  home  had  been  the  wife  's  prerogative — 
a  thousand  new  ones  a  year,  probably,  would  cover 
her  record — enough,  we  all  grant,  for  any  family. 
Without  mentioning  his  mission  at  home,  he 
consulted  a  well-known  Philadelphia  neurologist, 
who  peremptorily  ordered  rest,  the  kind  rich  folks 
can  take — six  months'  abroad,  a  summer  in  Can- 
ada, or  a  long  fishing  trip  on  the  Great  Lakes.  He 
did  not  tell  the  doctor  that  the  plans  would  have 
to  include  two,  one  of  whom  was  inordinately 
fastidious  and  thoroughly  incapable  of  tolerating 
Canadian  forests  or  baiting  a  fish-hook,  so  he 
quietly  told  the  wife  that  business  would  keep  him 
traveling  thru  Europe  for  a  number  of  months. 
So  it  was  one  foreign  hotel  after  another,  some- 
times one  day,  sometimes  two  weeks  at  a  place — 
the  changes  always  being  influenced  by  his  wife's 
desires.  Thru  Norway  and  Sweden,  gradually 
further  south,  thru  Italy,  even  two  weeks  in  Egypt, 
whence  they  fled  to  Paris  for  the  comforts  Mrs. 
Davis  always  enjoyed.  She  knew  nothing  of  her 
husband's  business  details  and  hardly  sensed  his 
slowly  oncoming  illness.  His  " business  engage- 
ments" consisted  of  long,  lonely  walks.  One 
morning  she  suddenly  realized  in  her  husband's 
haggard  face  the  disconcerting  truth.  In  an  al- 
most frenzy  of  panic,  she  sent  for  doctors,  whose 
only  answers  to  her  demands  for  health  were  the 
German  cures  and  the  sleep-producing  drugs. 


98         OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

The  master  hand  had  been  out  of  touch  with  the 
multiplied  interests  of  the  factories,  and  an  emerg- 
ency arose  of  unquestioned  urgency  which  de- 
manded Mr.  Davis'  presence.  Coming  home 
seemed  good  medicine,  and  for  several  weeks  he 
was  better — so  much  so  that  the  wife  quite  lost 
sight  of  her  alarm,  in  her  own  many  petty  troubles. 
The  sleeping-powders  had  for  the  time  brought  a 
certain  sense  of  betterment,  but  before  long  Mr. 
Davis  recognized  that  his  improvement  was  ficti- 
tious, that  he  was  having  to  use  more  of  the  medi- 
cine which  gave  sleep  without  refreshment.  He 
again  quietly  visited  his  Philadelphia  physician — 
he  had  not  seen  him  since  his  return.  It  so  hap- 
pened that  the  Doctor  was  away  from  the  city  for 
a  fortnight ;  his  assistant,  however,  looked  up  the 
records  and  went  into  many  details  of  the  sick 
man's  case  which  the  older  specialist  had  failed  to 
touch.  Unconsciously,  in  giving  his  responses, 
Mr.  Davis  had  revealed  some  of  his  wife's  limita- 
tions. At  the  end  of  the  conference  this  earnest, 
keen-sighted  young  physician  stated:  "I  believe, 
Mr.  Davis,  that  you  have  long  been  denying  your 
birthright.  Till  you  were  twenty-five  you  did 
very  hard  manual  labor  and  still  show  evidences 
of  having  been  a  powerfully  muscled  man,  but  for 
nearly  thirty  years  your  only  active  muscular  use 
has  been  driving  to  your  office  and  the  long, 
leisurely  walks  you  took  in  Europe.  With  the 
magnificent  start  physically  which  you  had,  you 
should  now  be  living  at  the  very  acme  of  health, 
strength  and  efficiency.  But  you  already  are 
aging,  and  prematurely  you  are  loosening  your 


99 

hold  on  active  living.  You  have  before  you  the 
choice  of  retiring  and  entering  into  an  untimely 
old  age  of  limited  diet  and  endless  concessions  to 
the  nervous  exactions  which  will  gradually  in- 
crease, or  of  renewing  your  youth."  The  last 
phrase  probably  slipped  from  the  young  counsellor 
unconsciously,  but  it  struck  the  deepest  chord  in 
Ethan  Davis'  nature  which  had  been  touched  for 
many  years,  and  the  young  doctor  was  startled,  as 
he  looked  up,  to  see  tears  coursing  down  the  older 
man's  face — a  face  so  tense  and  changed  by  emo- 
tion that  the  young  man  realized  the  inefficiency  of 
words,  and  he  quietly  busied  himself  some  min- 
utes with  the  records. 

Finally,  the  question,  "What  do  you  mean?" 
And  quickly  the  doctor  thought,  "Yes,  what 
part  of  that  youth  he  so  loved  can  be  restored?" 

For  those  days,  in  the  treatment  of  the  nervous, 
his  response  was  inspired.  "Have  Mrs.  Davis 
come  to  me.  A  summer  in  the  White  Mountains 
will  help  you  both — only  she  must  stick  it  out. 
Let  her  have  her  suite  in  a  hotel,  and  the  car.  You 
must  put  in  eight  hours  a  day  on  a  farm,  and  will 
be  too  tired  for  hotel  life  except  for  week-ends. 
You  must  work  and  sweat  and  live  on  simple  food 
till  you  have  lost  fifty  of  those  sluggish  pounds 
and  revitalized  the  other  hundred-and-eighty.  It 
will  be  play  for  you  after  the  first  three  weeks, 
and  the  sleep  you  knew  four  years  ago  will  come 
again.  With  three  months  so  spent  each  summer, 
you  will  be  kept  fit  for  your  large  labors  and  re- 
sponsibilities, and  will  stand  even  the  artificial 
life  of  your  luxurious  home  for  a  half  generation." 


100      OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

Inspired  the  young  doctor  certainly  was,  and 
his  words  awakened  into  life,  in  his  patient,  thrill- 
ing recollections  of  rugged  days  of  youth.  It  ap- 
pealed to  his  common  sense  at  once,  as  it  had  to 
his  imagination,  and  in  an  hour  a  constructive  con- 
fidence was  born. 

"Neither  your  wishes  nor  your  wealth  can  save 
him,  Mrs.  Davis.  Body  or  mind  is  going  to  go. 
It's  been  coming  on  for  years,  only  he  would  not 
complain.  We  have  been  trying  to  save  him  other 
ways  for  many  months,  and  have  failed.  Go  to 
the  mountains  with  him  each  summer  and  help 
him  to  do  as  we  say,  or  you  won 't  have  him  long. ' ' 
And,  as  life  without  him  seemed  impossible,  her 
fear  and  selfishness  helped  the  doctor. 

Mr.  Davis  was  nearly  fifty-five  when  he  grasped 
the  hour  hand  of  Time  and  slowly,  desperately  at 
first,  forced  it  back.  But  it  was  even  as  the  young 
doctor  had  visioned.  Within  the  month  his  mus- 
cles began  to  bring  him  joy — first,  a  grim  joy  of 
duty  done,  then  an  almost  childish  joy  of  simple 
accomplishment,  finally  a  strong  man's  joy  in 
using  his  strength — the  strength  that  returned 
until  it  reminded  him  of  those  virile  days  of  his 
young  huskiness,  when  he  was  a  physical  match 
for  anyone  in  Warren  County. 

The  half  generation  has  passed  and  the  exi- 
gencies of  the  Great  War  have  been  met  success- 
fully by  Ethan  Allen  Davis,  now  two-times  mill- 
ionaire, who  still  holds  unfalteringly  steady  the 
large  affairs  of  his  great  company.  He  has  never 
ceased  being  the  soul  of  consideration  to  his  de- 


RENEWING  ONE'S  YOUTH  101 

fective,  unseeing  wife,  and  it  is  on  his  own  New 
Hampshire  farm,  thru  the  summer  months,  that  he 
has  from  year  to  year  renewed  his  youth  and  made 
his  great  strength  of  mind  and  soul  possible. 


CHAPTER  IX 
WHY  THE  MIND  FAILS 

The  Mansion  of  the  Mind — Who  has  not  visioned 
a  mansion  of  his  own  planning — a  Dutch  Colonial, 
a  Georgian,  a  quaint  Elizabethan,  a  more  stately 
Renaissance  or  an  unique  Oriental-Mission  com- 
bination? Few  are  so  devoid  of  love  of  domicile 
or  individualism  in  taste  as  not  to  have  pictured  a 
fine  home,  the  fulfilment  of  their  dreams,  among 
their  aircastles,  though  but  one  out  of  the  many 
will  ever  take  form  in  stucco,  brick  or  marble. 
Each  of  us  is  daily  making  some  plan,  developing 
some  detail,  beautifying  some  aspect  of  the  man- 
sion of  the  mind — that  edifice,  humble,  defective  of 
noble — the  unescapable  product  of  our  mental  ac- 
tivities. Each  hour  we  add  something  to  its  com- 
pleteness, or  fail  to  put  into  place  some  stone  or 
to  polish  some  surface,  which  so  neglected,  re- 
mains a  permanent  defect. 

Peculiarly  free  are  we  all,  these  days  of  many 
advantages,  from  possible  interruption  of  our 
plan,  or  defacement  of  our  construction,  by  others. 
We  build  the  mansion  of  our  minds  largely  as  we 
will.  Others  may  be  to  blame  for  our  defective 
foundation  but  not  for  an  unattractive  super- 
structure. Parents  and  friends  and  teachers  do 
influence  us  all  in  the  matter  of  principles.  These 

may  be  made  lastingly  sound  or  dangerously  de- 

102 


WHY  THE  MIND  FAILS  103 

fective,  even  in  our  quite  early  years,  for  the  ones 
which  abide  unchanging  may  be  placed  before  our 
teens.  Few  are  free  from  the  necessity,  periodic- 
ally, of  stopping  construction,  and  of  taking  out 
defective  material  and  replacing  the  worthless 
with  the  worthy.  But  whether  laid  early,  or  en- 
larged or  relaid  later,  the  completed  mansion  will 
rest  upon  our  own  foundation  of  principles.  As 
the  building  progresses,  we  find  ourselves  seeking 
the  market  of  the  world  for  materials  of  our  liking, 
materials  which,  like  our  foundations,  will  defy 
time.  We  seek  each  day  for  new  facts  to  be  used 
as  beams  and  girders,  flooring,  framework  and 
roofing,  as  we  create  room  after  room  of  that 
magnificent  pile  which  is  in  the  end  to  represent  a 
life  of  sane,  honest,  constructive  building.  But 
bare  indeed  would  be  the  result  of  the  best  of 
masonry  and  carpentry  unfurnished  and  un- 
adorned. The  wise  man  furnishes  his  kitchen 
first — but  we  have  already  seen  how  common  is 
the  ignorance  of  dietetic  truths.  And  this  depart- 
ment of  the  outwardly  fine  mansion  is  too  often 
crudely  equipped  or  unkempt.  How  very  few 
even  think  of  gymnasium,  or  furnish  it  if  built,  or 
use  one  if  furnished.  Libraries  are  much  more 
popular,  and,  undoubtedly,  much  more  used,  but 
as  often  are  they  planned  to  represent  the  decora- 
tive as  the  constructive  aspect  of  our  building. 
Let  us  not  forget  that  the  creative  capacity  of  the 
normal  mind  is  such  that  in  threescore  well-spent 
years  our  mansion  may  become  palatial  in  outline, 
in  solidarity  of  construction,  in  richness  and  re- 
finement of  furnishings,  a  truly  worthy  edifice  cap- 


104       OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

able  of  satisfying  the  earthly  span  of  the  noble 
soul — the  mansion's  master.  Who  can  for  a  mo- 
ment question  the  blessings  of  existence  when  he 
realizes  the  inexhaustible  richness  of  material,  the 
unending  variety  of  possible  plans  for  construc- 
tion, the  soul's  ability  to  create  even  in  the  midst 
of  the  busiest  hours  the  adornments  of  culture  and 
character. 

What  town  is  without  its  " Smith's  Folly,"  or 
"Jones's  Fizzle"?  And  what  monument  of  fail- 
ure and  fizzle  is  more  obvious  than  a  deserted,  half- 
completed  building,  with  foundations  hidden  in  un- 
checked weeds,  and  gaunt  rafters,  the  unpainted 
sheeting  and  eyeless  windows  sheltering  only  spar- 
rows, mud-daubers  and  the  "spooks"  so  certain  to 
come.  Yet,  where  one  such  dismal  monument  ad- 
vertises some  unfortunate's  financial  failure,  on  a 
busy  street  a  hundred  men  and  women  will  pass 
each  hour  who  have  failed  or  are  failing  in  the 
building  of  the  mansion  of  their  minds.  Some  few 
of  these  received  hopelessly  defective  material 
from  their  parents ;  more — many  more — have  thru 
ignorance,  indifference  or,  unfortunately,  even  by 
deliberate  choice,  selected  low-grade  stone,  mortar 
and  timbers;  or  have  constructed  without  far- 
seeing  and  clearly  thought-out  plans.  Still  others 
have  neglected  that  which  was  given  them  to  use. 
A  few  have  destroyed  the  good  that  was  put  into 
their  hands,  have  cast  away  even  their  tools. 
Such  are  the  mentally  diseased,  the  hereditary  de- 
fectives, the  careless,  the  reckless,  the  vicious,  in 
the  use  of  their  gifts  and  opportunities.  Among 
them  will  be  seen  now  and  then  the  rare  unf  ortun- 


WHY  THE  MIND  FAILS  105 

ate  who  has  gone  down  to  failure — sinned  against. 
For  some  of  these  there  never  was  a  chance.  For 
others  to-day  is  too  late.  Many  can  still  tear  down 
and  build  anew  if  helped  by  the  strong  who  give 
of  their  strength  and  substance  to  serve  those  in 
need. 

The  House  in  Disorder — Numbers  fail  mentally, 
not  thru  lack  of  energy  or  ability,  not  thru  lack  of 
material  of  the  best  kind,  but  wholly  because  their 
work  is  not  orderly.  Not  a  small  percentage  of 
men  and  women  who  have  been  given  unusual  ad- 
vantages live  on  thru  the  years  in  the  midst  of  ten- 
sion and  unhappiness  and  practical  failure  because 
they  do  not  think  clearly — because  the  element  of 
confusion,  like  a  tangled  network,  impedes  their 
progress  and  limits  their  productiveness.  This 
type  of  mind  is  increasing  hand  in  hand  with  the 
growing  complexity  of  life,  and  is  specially  in- 
fluenced by  our  augmenting  educational  require- 
ments. Truck  after  truck  of  building  material 
may  be  unloaded  on  our  building  site,  only  to  in- 
crease confusion  and  waste  and  litter,  if  not  rightly 
utilized.  The  prodigious  advance  in  a  hundred 
departments  of  human  knowledge  has  caused  us 
to  overestimate  the  value  of  mere  facts,  forgetting 
that  education  consists  not  in  the  accumulation  of 
material,  but  in  its  related  use.  So  schools  and 
colleges  are  tempted  to  pile  and  cram  facts  into 
the  minds  of  those  they  train,  rather  than  to  sys- 
tematically undertake  the  far  more  difficult  task 
of  training  minds  into  the  right  use  of  principles. 
Only  when  the  ability  to  reason  and  judicially 
select  is  developed,  should  the  teacher  introduce 


106      OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

the  complex.  Other  training  than  this  will  too 
often  make  for  understandings  which  fail  to  recog- 
nise valuation.  Such  mental  equipment  is  waste- 
ful, as  are  they  wasteful  who,  whether  in  kitchen 
or  store  or  shop,  in  bank  or  pulpit,  do  not  clearly 
know  comparative  worth.  Here  is  the  foundation 
of  extravagance — a  most  obvious  form  of  modern 
wastefulness.  It  is  appalling  how  many  of  the 
presumptively  educated  are  incapable  of  discuss- 
ing most  questions  on  their  merits — piteously  lack- 
ing in  the  capacity  to  distinguish  a  principle  from 
an  opinion,  a  fact  from  a  belief.  For  such  minds 
as  these,  plans  are  almost  meaningless  save  as  a 
basis  of  change,  alteration  or  further  confusion. 
And  tension  is  inevitable  whenever  progress  is 
attempted,  for  they  work  in  a  confusion 
approaching  frenzy.  Women  probably  more  than 
men  suffer  and  cause  to  suffer,  make  mistakes,  mis- 
understand, forget,  act  impulsively  and  misjudge 
because  of  habitual  hazy  thinking.  Misdirected 
thought  results  in  a  house  in  disorder.  And  such 
a  simile  perfectly  portrays  the  mental  furnishings 
we  find  from  basement  to  attic  in  many  mansions 
which  to  the  passer-by  appear  stately. 

How  the  Mind  Fails — Were  we  limited  to  a  dis- 
cussion of  a  single  aspect  of  "Why  the  Mind 
Fails,"  we  should  not  concern  ourselves  with  de- 
fective material  or  confusion  in  the  use  of  mate- 
rial, but  consider  only  the  chief est  of  all  reasons — 
the  lack  of  it.  No  edifice  can  ever  take  form  with- 
out the  products  of  quarry,  forest,  factory  and 
forge.  Even  so  the  mansion  of  our  mind  is  en- 
larged day  by  day,  is  perfected  year  by  year,  is 


WHY  THE  MIND  FAILS  107 

furnished  and  embellished  thru  the  decades  be- 
cause something  new  is  constantly  being  added. 
The  statement  has  been  made  that  between  twenty 
and  forty  many  become  satisfied  with  their  supply 
of  knowledge ;  many  have  in  their  own  belief  com- 
pleted their  plans — they  consider  no  future  altera- 
tions ;  many  with  self-satisfaction  accept  their  own 
opinions  as  superior  to  their  neighbor's,  even 
tho'  he  is  a  man  of  special  training.  As  we 
allow  our  minds  to  trace  and  retrace  the  same 
path,  ruts  are  formed  which  make  it  increasingly 
difficult  for  us  to  change  habits,  to  visit  new  fields, 
to  consider  thoughtfully  new  opinions,  to  be  toler- 
ant, mentally  active,  to  diversify.  Then  we  are 
turned  from  eager,  investigating,  knowledge -crav- 
ing activities  of  youth  into  an  unnoticing,  uninter- 
ested, self-satisfied  mental  old  age.  The  most 
common  reason  for  this  is  indolence  of  mind. 
This  is  expressed  in  many  forms,  the  most  usual 
being  our  own  belief  that  we  are  too  tired  to  study, 
that  our  minds  need  amusing  after  a  day  of  duties. 
Mental  indolence  is  frequently  cloaked  by  conceit. 
We  "know  enough."  We  have  "made  good"  in 
the  store  or  our  profession.  Our  bank  ac- 
count speaks  eloquently  of  our  ability.  We 
are  clever,  and  have  "put  it  across"  so  often 
— what 's  the  use  of  grinding !  Nobody  in  our  own 
little  bailiwick  is  as  well  posted  as  we.  So  "we 
should  worry!"  Conceit  only,  never  real  ambi- 
tion, would  thus  be  satisfied.  To  take  up  a  real 
study  after  one  is  forty :  a  natural  science,  French, 
a  volume  on  household  economics,  applied  psychol- 
ogy ;  to  plunge  into  the  not-too-inviting  complex!- 


108       OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

ties  of  physiology  and  personal  hygiene;  to  seri- 
ously follow  a  course  in  cookery,  millinery  or 
dressmaking;  to  read  one  volume  of  standard  fic- 
tion a  month,  to  insist  upon  twenty  minutes  of 
Bible-study  and  a  half-hour  of  history  for  your- 
self and  your  family  each  day — does  it  seem  a 
humiliating  confession  of  inadequacy?  Will  not 
the  very  suggestion  increase  the  tightness  with 
which  some  will  close  their  minds  to  any  innovation 
standing  for  mental  progress  ? 

Almost  fatal  mental  narrowness  results  from 
habitual  failure  to  express  thoughts  in  action.  An 
unlettered  couple  starting  with  only  the  funda- 
mentals of  education  may  acquire  a  large  learning 
in  twenty-five  years  of  daily  exchange  of  thought, 
if  the  material  of  the  study  hour  is  sincerely 
reviewed  in  a  sympathetically  critical  spirit. 
Thought  expressed  grows;  silenced  it  dies.  We 
live  in  the  age  of  humanity's  most  infinite  riches. 
Our  interests  are  hourly  in  the  presence  of  the 
new  and  the  stimulating.  Experts  in  many  de- 
partments daily  add  to  the  richness  of  our  knowl- 
edge. If  a  mind  remains  inactive  in  the  face  of 
this  wealth  of  appeal,  it  is  but  an  old  mind — blind 
and  deaf;  unseeing,  unhearing,  it  knows  not  the 
value  of  the  new  which  passes  by.  The  growing 
mind  demands  the  new  for  its  food — as  the  grow- 
ing body  requires  protein  for  its  development — 
and  denied  this  it  cannot  mature. 

One  man  fails  in  business;  his  friend's  success 
is  proverbial.  A  housewife  keeps  her  home  in 
effort-saving  order;  her  cousin's  life  is  one  dis- 
turbance after  another  with  servants,  merchants 


WHY  THE  MIND  FAILS  109 

and  children.  The  successful  business  man  and 
the  orderly  housewife  possess  minds  which  have 
studied  detail  as  related  to  adaptability ;  the  others 
fail  because  they  are  lacking  in  this  superior  ex- 
pression of  successful  living.  Constructive  adapt- 
ability always  indicates  breadth  of  mind,  diversity 
of  interest,  the  courage  to  face  difficulties  and  the 
holding  fast  to  a  vision.  Mental  narrowness  de- 
forms the  mind  as  worry-wrinkles  do  the  face ;  it 
robs  the  mental  eye  of  its  luster,  the  mental  grasp 
of  its  strength.  And  the  vision  must  not  be  lost, 
for  as  it  goes  the  palsy  of  dulling  mental  activity 
creeps  in.  As  the  vision  of  life's  best  fades,  the 
far-off  horizon  begins  to  creep  closer — stealthily, 
imperceptibly  at  first — ominously  it  narrows, 
deadeningly  it  contracts  till  at  last  we  do  not  see 
beyond  the  small  circle  of  our  business  interests  or 
the  limited  confines  of  our  home — till  for  some 
wretched  ones  there  is  no  interest  left  beyond 
selfish  personality.  Thus  the  mind  fails. 


CHAPTER  X 
KEEPING  THE  MIND  YOUNG 

Narrowing  Self-satisfaction — Youth  has  the  call 
over  old  age.  Experience  counts  much  in  the  seri- 
ous affairs  of  life.  But  it  is  a  weakness  of  many 
"experienced"  to  be  so  satisfied  with  their  ac- 
cumulated ability  that  they  turn  from  the  cheer 
and  lilt,  the  keen  interests,  thrilling  loves  and  grip- 
ping faith  which  make  youth  so  dear.  If  we  are 
to  keep  youth  close  we  must  hold  fast  to  its  good. 
We  shall  ever  renew  interest — the  zest  of  youth; 
grow  in  capacity  for  love — the  beauty  of  youth; 
and  allow  no  disillusionments  to  rob  us  of  faith, 
the  stability  of  youth,  which  holds  true  the  soul, 
even  thru  the  mercurial  emotional  fluctuations  of 
youthful  days. 

As  Mr.  Man-of-Fifty  muses  upon  his  mental 
habits,  he  is  very  apt  to  discover  that  the  accumu- 
lations of  the  past  are  receiving  more  of  his 
attention  than  the  plans  and  promises  of  the 
future.  At  fifty  he  is  usually  a  success  or  a  fail- 
ure in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  and  probably  in  his 
own;  and  in  either  case  is  spending  considerable 
time  relating  the  details  of  how  he  did  it,  or  how 
the  other  fellow  did  him.  And  the  self-centered 
habit  of  thought  now  grows  in  the  soil  of  the  past, 
even  as  in  earlier  years  it  thrived  when  nourished 

by  selfish  sensitiveness.    There  is  no  sign  more 

no 


KEEPING  THE  MIND  YOUNG  111 

undeniable  that  the  mind  is  aging  than  its  tendency 
to  live  in  the  past,  to  be  satisfied  with  what  it  has 
accomplished,  to  chronically  grieve  and  mourn  for 
what  has  been  lost.  There  is  no  mental  tendency 
of  youth,  whether  the  youth  of  ten  or  seventy, 
more  characteristic  than  its  refusal  to  be  bound  by 
yesterday,  its  insistence  on  the  promise  of  to- 
morrow. 

The  majority  of  us  dread  old  age,  not  so  much 
on  account  of  its  physical  infirmities,  as  from 
a  belief  that  its  days  are  tedious  and  tiresome,  that 
one  lives  on,  bored  with  existence,  thru  its  rapidly 
emptying  years.  Tedious  and  tiresome  indeed  is 
much  of  senility,  the  senility  which  can  repeat  over 
and  over  non  a  propos  experiences  and  successes 
long1  since  ancient  history,  respectfully  listened  to 
on  the  basis,  only,  of  the  homage  due  old  age. 
Probably  an  even  earlier  evidence,  certainly  a  re- 
lentless cause  of  mental  aging,  is  the  advent  of 
dogmatism.  In  politics  and  business,  in  religion, 
in  dress,  in  morning  salutations  or  philosophic 
principles,  wherever,  whenever  the  unthinking 
mind  rests  fixed  or  the  investigating  mind  becomes 
self-satisfiedly  immovable,  dogmatism  has  arrived. 
When  one  accepts  the  dogmatic  attitude  toward 
any  subject,  he  accepts  limitations.  Thus  again 
old  age  may  anticipate  the  years — and  the  young 
theologic  student  of  twenty-three  be  hopelessly 
senile,  so  far  as  concerns  any  future  broadening 
of  his  doctrinal  views.  Sadly  for  him,  Paul's  in- 
junction to  the  Thessalonians  to  "Prove  all 
things, "  has  been  lost  sight  of  in  the  further  ad- 
monition to  "Hold  fast  to  that  which  is  good." 


112      OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

The  Adaptability  of  Strength  or  Weakness — 
How  almost  universally  man  forgets  that  there  is 
nothing  which  is  permanent  but  change.  Change 
is  the  law  of  every  expression  of  matter.  It  is 
the  very  basis  of  life,  but  the  aging  mind  ignores 
this  deep  truth.  And  how  much  deeper  can  your 
understanding  enter  into  the  great  secret  of  human 
existence  than  when  it  realizes  that  the  changes 
which  never  cease,  the  changes  which  are  as  in- 
evitable as  the  onrushing  of  spheres  in  sidereal 
space ;  that  change,  whether  expressed  in  the  un- 
dertaking of  a  new  exercise,  the  choosing  of  a  busi- 
ness associate,  the  acceptance  of  new  ideas  on 
character  formation,  in  loss,  gain,  sickness  or 
death — each  manifestation  of  change — is  but  a 
challenge  to  individual  adaptability.  And  adapt- 
ability is  life.  He  who  greatly  lives  adapts  him- 
self fittingly  to  great  and  small.  More  of  us  com- 
plain that  while  we  face  the  big  things — we  cannot 
tolerate  the  little  ones.  Thereby  we  disclose  our 
own  littleness.  The  host  of  the  discontented  and 
restless  are  combatting,  not  adapting. 

Old  age  ignores  and  forgets,  senses  not  nor  sees. 
And  when  ignoring  and  forgetting  and  unsensing 
and  unseeing  days  come,  the  leaves  are  falling,  the 
tree  is  being  bared,  and  growth  stops  and  beauty 
flees — then  old  age  takes  on  the  form  of  Death. 

Let  us  not  feel  too  comfortable  tho'  we  seem 
to  be  getting  on  famously  with  people  and  events 
and  things.  For  there  is  an  adaptability  of  weak- 
ness. Some  natures  passively  conform,  and  in- 
ertly are  adjusted  by  the  forces  of  their  surround- 
ings. So  is  the  drifting  log  in  the  river's  current, 


KEEPING  THE  MIND  YOUNG  113 

or  the  rotting  log  moldering  in  the  forest.  Vitally 
different  is  active  adaptation  which  while  harmon- 
izing with  situations  and  surroundings — creates. 
What  personality  so  little  that  it  cannot  add  a 
friendly  handclasp,  a  restraining  touch,  a  cheering 
word,  a  comforting  glance,  a  gentle  admonition  to 
each  human  contact.  What  nature  so  sluggish 
that  it  cannot  quicken  interests  by  entering  into 
even  a  chance  companion's  experiences?  Sympa- 
thy, interest,  saving  facts,  guiding  wisdom,  the 
richness  of  experience,  the  tenderness  wrought 
into  life  by  suffering — who  so  barren  as  to  have 
none  of  these  to  add  some  touch  to  momentarily 
cheer,  to  constructively  create,  to,  once  in  a  life- 
time, magnificently  save?  Nor  has  anyone  lived 
an  hour,  it  matters  not  the  number  of  his  years, 
the  wealth  which  has  been  lavished  upon  him  or 
which  he  has  strewn  broadcast,  the  "big  business" 
he  has  done,  the  offices  he  has  held,  if  he  has  not 
given  of  himself.  For  living  does  not  come  till 
one  creates,  till  he  has  lifted  some  load  and  carried 
some  burden;  till  he  has  brightened  some  life  or 
strengthened  some  faith.  Life  is  an  increasing 
creation;  old  age,  which  is  but  premature  Death, 
never  enters  while  the  creating  touch  remains. 

Progress  is  a  never-pausing  procession,  which 
for  ages  refuses  to  retravel  the  same  road.  And 
for  every  human  span  the  path  of  progress  will 
remain  unceasingly  new.  The  journey  of  no  day 
will  be  repeated  by  him  who  looks  beyond  the 
near-by  dust  and  weed-choked  fences.  But  there 
are  always  those  who  will  look  no  further,  and 
they  complain  of  the  monotony  and  of  the  endless 


114      OLD  AT  FORTY  OE  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

grind.  The  soul  unquestionably  can  see  beyond. 
What  is  soul  but  mind  divinely  touched,  mind  made 
immortal !  And  the  intellect  that  would  not  un- 
timely die  will  daily  attend  to  its  own  upbuilding. 
It  will  call  no  day  done  until  in  some  book  or  life 
or  personal  experience,  in  some  chastening  defeat 
or  sobering  victory  it  has  discovered  something 
better. 

The  days  merge  into  years  with  the  grime  of  the 
shop,  the  contracting  routine  of  the  kitchen,  unre- 
lieved. The  odor  of  the  burning  hoof  never 
changes  for  the  blacksmith ;  the  forty  faces  before 
the  school-teacher  remain,  session  after  session, 
some  bright  and  some  dull.  The  clergyman's 
"Finally,  Brethren,"  thru  out  the  years  must  point 
a  moral.  And  it  all  stands  for  deadly  monotony, 
the  herald  of  age. 

Renewing  the  Mind — There  is  a  use  which  dulls, 
and  the  use  which  brightens.  With  the  mind  as 
the  body,  disuse  is  a  most  malignant  misuse,  even 
as  aggressive,  active,  constructive  use  is  the  price 
of  mental  youth.  To  fall  into  sluggish  mental 
habits  is  as  easy  as  to  lapse  into  indolent  physical 
ones.  There  are  those,  keen  for  body-activities, 
who  flee  mental  effort  as  they  would  avoid  punish- 
ment; others  invite  curtailment  of  physical  days 
thru  mere  bodily  laziness,  the  while  maintaining 
unusual  mental  activity.  Many  professional  men 
are  thus  constituted.  We  have  seen  the  essential 
wisdom  and  relative  simplicity  of  keeping  the  body 
young ;  but  no  continuance  of  physical  youth  is  cer- 
tain which  does  not  hold  fast  a  youthful  mind  as 
well.  In  fact,  in  such  a  mind  lies  our  hope  for  a 


KEEPING  THE  MIND  YOUNG  115 

youthful  body.  Freshness  of  intellect  may  be 
maintained,  or  if  waning,  regained  thru  exercises 
as  effortful,  perhaps,  as  those  necessary  to  re- 
habilitate weakened  muscles.  In  order  that  this 
may  be,  one  must  become  master  of  his  own 
thoughts.  For  those  who  have  responded  to  life's 
actualities  for  years  with  the  dream  imaginings  of 
childhood,  who  have  allowed  wishes  and  fears  an 
unopposed  way  in  forming  thought  relations — for 
these,  and  they  are  many — thought  control  pre- 
sents a  problem  equally  serious  to  that  of  rebuild- 
ing muscles  in  an  arm  which  has  hung  idle  forty 
years  in  the  lap  of  ease.  Most  seriously  must 
many  of  us  take  up  this  fundamental  question  of 
thought  control  and  systematically  force  ourselves 
time  and  again  each  day  to  change  our  attention 
to  other  subjects,  to  thereby,  thru  will,  direct  our 
stream  of  thought.  Most  constructively  and  hap- 
pily is  this  done  when  we  replace  the  worry-idea 
by  constructive  ones. 

Fred  is  late  returning  from  school.  His  worry- 
mother  grows  anxious,  runs  to  the  door  every  few 
minutes,  becomes  certain  that  he  has  been  struck 
by  an  auto,  begins  'phoning  and  disturbing  her 
neighbors — then  frantically  clasps  the  young  hope- 
ful to  her  flustered  bosom,  loving  and  scolding  him 
in  one  breath,  unheeding  his  story  of  the  fight  with 
Jim,  the  fight  which  may  help  make  a  man  of  him 
in  spite  of  his  hysterical  mother.  How  else  should 
a  mother  do? — many  will  ask.  If  the  mind  is  to 
be  orderly,  fear-inspired  thoughts — and  worry  is 
but  fear — must  give  place  to  reason-ordered  plans. 
Fred  is  late,  and  the  chances  are  he  is  playing  on 


116       OLD  AT  FORTY  OB  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

the  way.  If  this  stands  for  disobedience  he 
should,  of  course,  be  helpfully  punished.  He  may 
have  been  hurt,  tho  if  so,  the  'phone  would  already 
have  rung.  Has  his  mother  carefully  planned 
what  to  do  in  an  emergency,  has  she  selected  the 
doctor  she  would  call,  or  in  his  absence  a  substi- 
tute, or  to  which  hospital  he  would  be  sent?  A 
half-hour  spent  in  logically  thinking  out  the  best 
plan  of  action  if  Fred  is  hurt,  once  done,  should 
eliminate  disconcerting  anxiety  for  a  score  of 
future  occasions — and  worry  thus  becomes  con- 
structive anxiety.  Even  anxious  mothers  may  dis- 
place emotional  thinking  with  creative  attention. 
Worry  may  be  transformed  into  developing,  forti- 
fying mental  training.  But  persistence  and  de- 
termination must  be  enlisted ;  for  saving  growth  of 
this  sort  comes  only  thru  gradual  accumulation, 
the  reward  of  many  successfully  fought  conflicts. 
We  will  find  ourselves  developing  creative  at- 
tention through  a  reasonable  facing  of  our  appre- 
hension, and  will  some  day  realize  that  our  critical 
sense,  which  is  the  mind's  best,  has  improved,  too. 
Not  that  we  have  become  more  keen  in  ferreting 
out  our  neighbor's  faults  and  weaknesses,  but  that 
we  are  more  accurately  sensing  values  in  all  our 
estimates — that  better  and  worse  are  more  clearly 
recognized  and  understood.  This  is  the  road  lead- 
ing to  accuracy — one  of  the  mind's  most  certain 
protectors  from  disorder  and  deterioration.  Into 
each  day  should  enter  some  effort  for  a  better  un- 
derstanding, for  a  more  accurate  knowledge,  a 
finer  sense  of  worth  or  a  more  worthy  charity. 
Determination  to  so  use  one's  mind  is  behind 


KEEPING  THE  MIND  YOUNG  117 

man's  best  endeavors  toward  the  formation  of  the 
best  mental  habits. 

First  let  us  succeed  in  acquiring  discriminative 
power  of  thought  choice  and  sincerity  in  thought 
revision;  then  we  are  ready  to  welcome  the  host 
of  interests  which  throng  each  day,  besieging  the 
mind  that  they  may  enter  in  and  enrich  and 
beautify.  The  hospitable  mind  is  opposed  to  the 
dogmatic  and  should  be  the  ideal  for  us  all.  Thru 
its  help  we  enlarge  our  vision  and  see  beyond  pots 
and  kettles,  stenographic  notes  and  typewriters, 
the  clink  of  dollars,  trial  balances,  tangled  politics 
and  the  intensities  of  the  next  election.  But  next 
to  sheer  ignorance,  the  greatest  of  obstacles  to  the 
enlargement  of  interests  is  no  less  a  personage 
than  the  self-centered  self.  Self-attention  and 
self-pity  prove,  for  a  wretched  many,  obscuring 
goggles  shutting  out  the  teeming,  beckoning  world 
about.  Suffering  and  sickness  breed  these  blind- 
ing qualities  in  the  weak ;  and  failure  of  body  may 
be  anticipated  thru  long  years  by  practical  loss  of 
mental  vision. 

The  local  newspaper  and  trashy  reading  obtrude 
unprofitably,  thievingly,  often  preempting  the 
daily  thirty  to  sixty  minutes  which  could  be  spent 
year  after  year  in  pursuing  a  progressive  course 
of  reading.  Chautauqua  courses  are  well  planned 
to  start  orderly  home-study  habits ;  or  a  university 
extension  course,  in  English  or  Domestic  Science 
— any  one  of  the  hundreds  of  instructive  branches 
now  offered  by  correspondence.  These  are  de- 
signed to  add  to  the  equipment  and  understanding 
of  workers  in  all  branches  of  the  trade  and  the 


118       OLD  AT  FORTY  OB  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

arts.  No  mind  genuinely  anxious  to  keep  itself 
young  fails  to  take  up  between  forty  and  fifty  some 
developing  course  of  study.  A  modern  language, 
with  comparatively  little  help,  may  be  quite  ade- 
quately self-taught  in  five  years  with  a  half-hour 
of  daily  study.  And  the  resultant  benefits  to  the 
mind  as  a  whole  are  surprisingly  gratifying  and 
really  disproportionate  to  the  effort  involved. 

Three  Youth  Preserving  Qualities — Three  qual- 
ities we  discover,  then,  are  to  be  maintained  or  at- 
tained if  we  are  to  avoid  the  narrowness  and  tire- 
someness— the  mental  inefficiency  associated  with 
old  age.  Certainly,  if  we  wish  to  develop  and 
utilize  the  possible  riches  which  even  the  ordinary 
mind  may  attain  thru  earnest,  eager  daily  use, 
alertness,  capacity  and  accuracy  are  essential. 
Alert  interest  increases  one's  returns  from  every 
human  relationship.  But  there  is  probably  no 
mental  quality  which  so  enhances  social  attractive- 
ness. One  alert  mind  can  put  sparkle  into  the 
social  gathering,  can  step  into  the  breach  and 
gracefully  deflect  attention  and  relieve  difficult  sit- 
uations. In  our  growing  collection  of  daily  doings 
for  youthfulness'  sake,  we  will  cultivate  mental 
snap — demanding  alertness  of  ourselves  even  tho' 
interest  should  flag,  until  such  activity  becomes 
automatic.  This  may  be  done,  for  instance,  by 
focusing  our  best  attention  at  the  time  of  an  in- 
troduction that  we  may  associate  inseparably  the 
stranger's  face  and  name.  Wholesomely  we  may 
decide  that  no  day  shall  pass  in  which  we  do  not 
put  into  fitting  words  a  humorous  situation.  A 
good  short  story,  the  result  of  experience,  or  one 


KEEPING  THE  MIND  YOUNG  119 

heard  and  repeated,  may  enliven  each  dinner  with 
happy  effects  on  mind  and  digestion. 

To  increase  the  mind's  capacity — that  quality 
which  no  imagination  has  yet  presumed  to  limit — 
requires  the  daily  addition  of  facts.  These  are 
constantly  within  reach  of  all,  and  any  orderly 
study  involves  their  acquisition.  Were  one  per- 
mitted a  thousand  years  of  learning,  his  mind 
would  then  hold  but  a  fraction  of  the  knowable 
facts  of  human  achievement.  The  pocket  note- 
book is  almost  indispensable,  for  if  we  are  to  sys- 
tematically enlarge  our  capacity,  we  shall  see  to  it 
that  the  dictionary  daily  spells  and  defines  a  new 
word  or  so,  that  the  encyclopedia  enlightens  us  on 
vague  points  in  history  or  on  obscure  references. 
We  will  have  a  geography  of  our  own  and  use  it, 
and  shall  soon  learn  thereby  that  every  new  fact  is 
tied  to  another,  and  that  even  success  does  not 
grow  like  knowledge. 

The  last  of  the  three  needed  qualities  is  the  most 
exacting,  the  most  elusive,  the  most  difficult.  To 
attain  accuracy  is  to  develop  a  dependable  mind. 
But  the  price  of  this  is  humility,  for  the  exactions 
necessary  in  the  attainment  of  accuracy  are  most 
rigorous  and  uncompromising.  All  the  froth  of 
exaggerated  phrases  so  common  to-day,  socially, 
all  the  false  coloring  of  overemphasis;  the  not 
uncommon  habit  of  making  unsupportable  state- 
ments when  we  are  with  associates  who  know  less 
than  we — these  inaccuracies  must  be  rigorously 
pushed  aside.  Time  and  again  we  shall  have  to 
swallow  our  pride  and  make  retractions  when  we 
realize  that  thru  stress  of  emotions,  or  desire  to 


120      OLD  AT  FORTY  OE  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

excel,  or  in  mere  efforts  at  brilliancy,  we  have  mis- 
stated. The  price  of  accuracy  is  daily  self-correc- 
tion. 

Minds  so  trained  remain  young  years  after  the 
body  ages — so  young  that  physical  infirmity  but 
heightens  the  supremacy  of  the  mind 's  culture. 


CHAPTER  XI 
WHEN  SLEEP  IS  A  PROBLEM 

It  is  vain  for  you  to  rise  up  early,  to  sit  up  late,  to  eat 
the  bread  of  sorrows,  for  so  He  giveth  His  beloved  sleep. 

The  Nature  of  Sleep — Few  realize  the  blessing 
of  sleep  until  a  few  wakeful  nights  remove  it  from 
us.  Then  with  revealing  intensity  comes  the  real- 
ization that  it  is  one  of  life's  greatest  boons. 
Then  we  see  the  force  and  beauty  in  the  efforts  of 
the  psalmists  and  of  the  poets  to  put  into  words 
the  virtues  of  the 

"Sleep  that  knits  up  the  ravell'd  sleave  of  care, 
The  death  of  each  day's  life,  sore  labour's  bath, 
Balm  of  hurt  minds,  .  .  . 
Chief  nourisher  in  life's  feast." 

Normal  sleep  should  be  the  death  of  each  day's 
life.  And  the  normal  sleeper  falls  into  an  uncon- 
sciousness as  serenely  peaceful  as  the  eternal 
sleep.  And  for  a  span  of  hours  there  is  rest,  that 
perfect  rest  possible  only  when  conflicts  have 
ceased.  So  sleep  the  babes  nestled  in  the  fragrant 
down  of  their  cribs,  and  the  wearied  laborer  on  his 
pallet  of  straw.  And  such  sleep  is  truly  the  chief 
nourisher  in  life's  feast. 

But  many  do  not  sleep  normally.  The  drugged, 
under  the  influence  of  opiates  or  hypnotics,  the 

121 


122       OLD  AT  FORTY  OB  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

sluggish,  from  excess  of  unneeded  foods,  lie  as  in 
a  stupor.  Their  sleep  is  heaviness.  Their  awak- 
ening is  without  refreshment.  Dully  and  apa- 
thetically, wearily,  they  greet  the  new  day.  The 
nervous  as  a  class  are  light  sleepers;  sensitive  to 
even  minor  disturbances,  they  are  easily  roused. 
It  is  surprising  how  instantly  alert  many  of  them 
are  when  wakened,  and  how  comfortably  they 
spend  a  life-time  averaging  daily  six  hours  or  even 
less  of  actual  sleep.  The  fitful  sleeper  is  fear- 
haunted  and  tense,  sensitive  not  so  much  to  his 
surroundings  as  to  the  unhappy,  restless  spirit 
within.  For  many  such,  restless  nights  are  mul- 
tiplied, for  they  sleep  without  relaxation.  And 
even  during  the  night  hours  the  "sleave  of  care" 
is  still  ravelled. 

Troubled  sleep  is  usually  the  portion  of  those 
who  take  rest-disturbing  conflicts  into  the  night 
hours.  Disease  is  a  conflict  of  damaged  tissues 
and  organs  to  regain  their  normal  condition.  In 
it  healing  and  damaging  forces  are  at  strife.  In 
the  dissatisfied  mind  there  is  conflict,  too,  between 
what  we  have  and  what  we  want.  In  fear  there  is 
conflict  between  the  ability  to  accomplish  and  the 
weaknesses  which  defeat.  In  the  fear  that  de- 
stroys the  repose  of  sleep,  there  must  always  be  a 
conscious  or  unrecognized  conviction  that  there 
are  forces  which  can  damage — a  certain  convic- 
tion to  those  who  know  not  their  souls.  Con- 
sciences become  morbid,  infected  by  fear,  too,  and 
the  misinterpreted  voice  of  the  Spirit  may  pervade 
the  night  thoughts  to  fill  them  with  nameless 
terrors. 


WHEN  SLEEP  IS  A  PROBLEM  123 

The  Physical  Problem — One  of  heredity's  most 
definite  stamps  is  expressed  in  the  individual's 
temperament,  and  temperaments  do  differ.  The 
physician  finds  that,  within  limitations,  one  pa- 
tient will  respond  quite  differently  to  a  certain 
drug  than  does  another.  Most  of  us,  probably, 
have  observed  the  very  different  effects  of  alcohol 
upon  varying  types  of  individuals.  At  a  stag 
banquet  at  two  A.M.  during  ye  olden  "wet  days," 
A  would  be  found  comfortably  snoring  under  the 
table;  B's  head  would  be  bobbing  and  nodding;  C, 
dazed,  looks  on  with  indifferent  eyes ;  E  apparently 
has  kept  his  head;  F  is  singing,  indifferent  to  G's 
efforts  to  pick  a  quarrel  with  him;  H  is  weeping 
and  exhorting,  while  I  is  play-acting  with  all  the 
gusto  of  mock  tragedy.  Analysis  of  this  inebri- 
ated group  proves  that  alcohol  has  been  a  sedative 
to  some,  an  excitant  to  the  remainder.  Even  more 
powerful  drugs,  as  morphin,  which  as  a  rule  quiets 
both  physical  and  mental  activity,  is  for  a  small 
group  a  definite  stimulant.  It  is  even  so  with 
tobacco.  And  the  fact  which  we  have  just  illus- 
trated explains  largely  the  different  results  man- 
ifested by  diverse  temperaments  to  the  toxins  of 
defective  food-oxidation. 

Food  self-poisoning,  we  have  learned,  makes 
some  sluggish,  somnolent,  dull  of  mind,  inert  of 
body;  while  to  others  the  same  poison  is  a  whip 
which  stings  into  fretfulness  and  restlessness, 
tenseness  and  sleeplessness.  If  Jack  Spratt  and 
his  wife,  eating  both  lean  and  fat,  lick  the  platter 
clean,  Jack  may  lie  unmoving  and  snoring  the 
night  thru,  even  while  Mrs.  Spratt,  beside  him, 


124       OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

beats  the  air  and  tangles  the  sheet  in  her  fidgets. 
Overeating  deadened  one  and  made  the  other  tense. 

When  folks  have  spent  twenty  years  of  muscular 
inactivity,  they  will  usually  accumulate  toxic  ma- 
terials which,  like  certain  disagreeable  people,  fail 
to  indicate  their  presence  as  long  as  you  let  them 
alone.  But  stir  them  up  and  there  is  war.  And 
one  of  the  first  effects  of  a  new  regime  of  exercise 
among  those  guilty  of  years  of  muscle  neglect,  will 
be  the  setting  loose  within  their  circulation  of 
their  toxic  enemies  in  quantities  which  will,  of 
course,  make  every  newly-used  muscle  stiff  and 
sore,  but  in  addition  will,  for  some,  produce  dul- 
ness-,  and  for  others  intensity.  Therefore  Mr. 
Spratt  will  say,  ''I  am  no  good  in  the  office  all 
morning  if  I  take  those  confounded  spread 
eagles,"  while  Mrs.  Spratt  will  rejoin,  "Well,  I 
wish  they'd  treat  me  that  way.  You  must  be 
imagining,  for  I  know  they  Ve  kept  me  awake  'till 
three  o  'clock  every  morning  since  I  began  them. ' ' 
Reason  enough  for  ordinary  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Spratt 
to  quit  the  "confounded  things."  And  quitting 
the  spread  eagles  is  the  first  surrender — the  be- 
ginning of  the  end  of  all  constructive  efforts  prom- 
ising youth  at  sixty.  A  change  in  regimen,  if 
needed,  will  almost  inevitably  be  followed  by  dis- 
turbances which  seem  at  the  time  detrimental.  Do 
you  know  the  housewife  who  refuses-  to  sweep  be- 
cause it  stirs  up  such  a  dust? 

The  Mental  Problem — When  we  consider  the  re- 
lation of  mind  to  sleep  the  subject  of  dreams  is 
suggested.  Most  satisfactory  advance  has  been 
made  during  quite  recent  years  in  our  understand- 


WHEN  SLEEP  IS  A  PROBLEM  125 

ing  of  these  companions  of  our  sleep — so  mystical 
throughout  the  past.  Observers  have  long  real- 
ized that  certain  dreams  result  from  the  influence 
of  physical  conditions.  Cartoonists  convincingly 
portray  nightmares  galloping  heavy-shod  on  over- 
filled stomachs.  Experiments  have  shown  the  re- 
lation of  simple  irritants  in  reproducing  definite 
dreams.  Some  dreams  also  result,  undoubtedly, 
from  the  mind's  subconscious  appreciation  of 
purely  physical  conditions. 

Our  better  understanding  of  dreams,  however,  is 
related  to  modern  studies  of  the  mind  itself,  and 
its  reactions  to  its  own  activities.  Science  to-day 
accepts  that  the  majority  of  dreams  are  the  con- 
tinuations into  the  sleep-period  of  unsatisfied  de- 
sires of  the  waking  hours.  In  fact,  certain  teach- 
ers claim  that  all  dreams  are  founded  on  wishes 
ungratified.  Quite  adroitly  these  teachers  have 
disposed  of  another  active  exciter  to  dreams,  per- 
sonal fears,  including,  of  course,  fear  for  those  we 
love.  The  teachers  mentioned  speak  of  fear  as 
inverted  wish.  This  is  a  deft,  but  unconvincing 
juggling  of  terms.  Emotional  expression  is  in- 
variably associated  with  physical  expression. 
Physiology  clearly  reveals  the  striking  distinction 
between  the  circulatory  and  secretory  reactions 
resulting  from  desire  and  fear.  Fear  and  wish 
are  not  emotional  equivalents ;  they  are  emotional 
antipodes.  It  is  an  absolutely  distinct  stimulant 
which  causes  the  dilated  pupils,  the  dry  mouth,  the 
speechless  throat,  the  blanched  cheek  of  a  woman 
in  the  presence  of  a  murderous  assailant,  and  the 
eager  tear-coursed  face,  the  unrestrained  desire  to 


126       OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

embrace,  the  joyous  greeting  of  the  same  woman 
as  her  lost  child  is  returned.  Let  us  understand 
then,  disturbed  bodies,  unsatisfied  minds,  and  un- 
easy spirits  may  paint  our  dreams. 

The  most  devastating,  sleep-repelling  mental 
conflict  is  worry.  Worry  is  a  chronic  form  of  fear, 
is  fear  pr.ol'onged  through  the  days  and  nights  as 
an  unsatisfied  anxiety — anxiety  for  the  business 
which  means  overmuch,  for  the  love  which  seems  to 
be  chilling,  yet  which  worry  will  but  the  more 
repel;  anxiety  for  the  safety  of  those  who  are  de- 
pendent, worrying  about  whom  but  lessens  our 
ability  to  most  perfectly  care  for  them;  worry 
about  our  personal  health,  which  but  adds  poison 
to  poison.  We  have  already  seen  that  much  of 
worry  is  secondary  to  physical  causes.  But  worry 
may  be  purely  mental  in  those  who  have  not  won 
mastery.  Worry  breeds  intensity,  and  sleep  de- 
mands relaxation. 

The  Fear  of  Insomnia — The  Archdemon  of 
Worry,  whose  mandate  is  sleeplessness,  is  the  fear 
of  insomnia.  No  more  perfect  soil  can  be  pre- 
pared for  sleepless  hours  than  the  anticipatory 
dread  that  sleep  will  not  come.  The  ordinary  vic- 
tim of  insomnia  begins  his  preparation  for  an 
open-eyed  night  early  the  morning  before.  He 
discusses  in  detail  the  horrible  night  he  has  just 
spent,  and  begins  reviewing  the  list  of  influences 
which  contributed  to  his  wakefulness,  and  with 
growing  intensity  he  retails  and  recatalogues  them 
throughout  the  day,  until  by  bedtime  he  is  yirought 
up,  with  perceptions  high-keyed  and  so  acute  that 
he  lies  straining  every  nerve  to  the  ticking  of  the 


WHEN  SLEEP  IS  A  PROBLEM          127 

clock,  unconsciously  determined  not  to  miss  the 
striking  of  an  hour.  Keenly  alive,  and  resentful 
to  the  normal  noises  of  the  night,  alert  and  dis- 
traught, he  fights  his  bed  into  disorder,  punishes 
his  pillow  as  though  it  were  the  offender,  disarrays 
sheets  and  covers  until  exhaustion  brings  him  a 
period  of  slumber  which  is  so  unrefreshing  that  he 
is  certain  he  has  not  slept.  The  chronic  sufferer 
from  insomnia  is  rare  who  has  not  hypnotized  him- 
self into  obvious  falsification  and  even  resentful 
denial  of  the  hours  he  actually  does  sleep. 

Let  us  not  forget  that  the  sleep  which  upbuilds 
and  refreshes,  the  sleep  which  keeps  even  our 
mornings  youthful  can  never  be  won  by  direct  ef- 
fort. You  wish  to  caress  the  grey  squirrel  in  the 
Park.  You  carry  him  nuts  and  coax  him  close. 
You  reach  out  to  grasp  him,  and  he  scampers  away. 
You  chase  him  and  he  scurries  up  a  tree.  Effort- 
fully  you  climb  after  him.  He  retreats  to  branches 
where  you  dare  not  venture,  and  mocks  you. 
Hours  you  may  spend,  your  intensity  increasing 
with  your  weariness.  But  you  might  spend  day 
after  day  thus  and  you  would  never  coddle  the 
squirrel.  And  yet  he  loves  coddling  and  will  come 
and  snuggle  close  when  you  learn  the  gentle  art  of 
wooing  him.  Seat  yourself  at  the  foot  of  his  tree, 
inert  and  comfortable,  with  the  lunch  you  have 
brought,  in  your  hand.  Motionless  you  remain 
and  quiet,  and  he  comes  and  sniffs,  then  nearer, 
and  eats — and  if  he  doesn't  know  you  want  him 
so,  snuggles  down  beside  you.  Even  thus  unin- 
vited, unsought,  comes  sleep. 

Let  us  face  fairly  the  relation  of  sleep  to  insan- 


128       OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

ity.  The  average  person  believes  that  sleepless- 
ness is  a  frequent  cause  for  loss  of  mind.  In  truth 
the  inability  to  sleep  is  but  a  symptom  resulting 
from  a  damaging  irritation  to  the  brain,  which 
irritation  may  cause  both  the  insanity  and  the 
sleeplessness.  Sleepless  nights  then  are  warnings 
which  the  wise  will  heed  and  heeding,  seek  expert 
advice,  refusing  to  smother  by  drugs  the  voice 
which  would  direct  them  to  safety.  There  is  no 
question  that  when  worry  becomes  incessant,  the 
worry  associated  with  chronic  toxic  conditions, 
the  mind  is  in  jeopardy,  and  that  absolute  inability 
to  sleep,  then,  does  stand  for  impending  danger. 

Rarely  is  sleep  a  problem  with  those  who  thru 
the  years  have  kept  themselves  physically  fit.  A 
healthy,  toxin-free  body  will  find  its  rest,  and  for 
the  one  to  whom  sleep  is  a  problem  our  first  in- 
junction is  to  read,  reread  and  apply  the  chapters 
relating  to  the  physical  causes  and  preventives  of 
old  age.  There  is  something  abnormal,  not  ego- 
tistically individual  nor  exclusively  tempera- 
mental, in  the  person  who  finds  bodily  fatigue  a 
detriment  to  sleep,  something  abnormal  which 
beckons  on  old  age,  something  abnormal  which  a 
thimbleful  of  wisdom  would  impel  one  to  discover 
and  remove.  There  is  truly  no  more  universal 
wooer  of  sleep  than  honest  physical  weariness. 

Sleep  or  Rest? — The  mental  tangles  and  emo- 
tional jangles  we  have  already  discussed,  and  the 
suggestions  for  their  resolution  will  prove  most 
wholesomely  helpful  for  the  nervous,  if  ap- 
proached without  antagonism,  and  carried  out 
with  "a  constructive  faith.  But  for  every  sleep- 


WHEN  'SLEEP  IS  A  PROBLEM  129 

less  individual  who  is  not  being  kept  awake  by  the 
physical  pain  of  organic  disease,  there  is  an  axiom 
which  if  made  a  truism  will  wholesomely  and 
hearteningly  simplify  his  problem:  "  I  can  rest 
tho '  I  don 't  sleep. ' '  Here  is  where  good  sense  and 
the  marvelous  saving  power  of  a  trained  will  en- 
ter to  rob  sleepless  hours  of  their  intensity  and  of 
their  terrors.  Instead  of  turning  one's  couch 
into  a  torture-rack,  let  it  be  a  place  of  relaxation, 
woo  its  comforts  as  tho'  they  were  caresses.  Lie 
quietly,  not  rigidly,  changing  position  only  once  or 
twice  an  hour.  Wretched  truly  is  he  who  has  not 
much  food  for  grateful  thought,  and  multiplied 
reasons  to  hope  for  better  things  in  his  own,  or 
near-by  lives.  It  is  here  and  here  only  that  our 
wills  may  be  utilized  in  winning  sleep.  No  power 
of  volition  can  coax  one  minute  of  slumber,  though 
will  may  overcome  a  multitude  of  sleep's  enemies 
and  smooth  the  way  for  its  approach. 

Sleep  and  Drugs — A  volume  might  be  written  on 
the  relation  of  drugs  to  sleep,  revealing  the  prin- 
ciples involved  in  this  serious  question  and  illus- 
trating them  from  the  pages  of  human  suffering. 
But  here  we  must  be  content  with  a  few  warnings. 
Drug  sleep  is  a  poor  substitute  for  natural  repose, 
no  better,  in  fact,  than  peaceful  wakefulness.  Few 
habits  gain  ascendency  over  the  will  more  rapidly 
than  drug  dependence  for  insomnia.  No  one  can 
for  a  period  of  months  depend  upon  drug-produced 
sleep  and  not  become  an  insomnia-fearing  coward. 
There  is  no  drug  known,  sufficiently  powerful  to 
force  sleep  upon  sleeplessness,  which  is  not  more 
or  less  definitely  a  poison  to  the  central  nervous 


130      OLD  AT  FORTY  OE  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

system.  Many,  even  physicians,  speak  of  "harm- 
less sleep  powders,"  but  the  more  certainly  they 
produce  unconsciousness,  the  more  truly  are  they 
damaging.  Whether  it  is  bromides  or  chloral, 
veronal,  trional,  medinol,  or  any  one  of  the  many 
compounds  of  these  drugs,  whether  brandy,  whis- 
key or  even  beer  that  one  takes,  he  is  only  adding 
one  poison  to  another  and  in  the  end  increasing  the 
certainty  of  his  sleeplessness  or  the  wretchedness 
of  his  drug  slavery.  There  are,  unquestionably, 
harmless,  simple  means  which  improve  the  circu- 
latory conditions  favoring  sleep  that  may  be  used 
repeatedly  without  harm.  The  cup  of  hot  milk  or 
broth,  the  ten-minute  bath  in  neutral  water 
(96°  F.),  the  five-minute  warm  foot-bath,  a  tea- 
spoonful  of  tincture  of  asafetida  in  hot  water, 
prove  most  beneficent  helps  when  the  trouble  is 
not  severe.  But  drugs  should  only  be  used  on  the 
prescription  of  a  competent  physician,  who  if  he 
is  competent  will  order  them  only  for  two  or  three 
nights  during  real  emergencies.  The  safe  hyp- 
notic for  regular  use  will  never  be  found.  It  will 
ever  be  as  Solomon  classed  wine,  "a  mocker." 

Habit  enters  into  the  question  of  sleep  with  its 
wonderful  power  to  build  up  or  destroy ;  and  sleep- 
habits  formed  in  babyhood  are  kept  by  some 
thruout  life,  modified  only  in  amount.  When  sleep 
is  a  problem,  the  art  of  taking  cat-naps  should 
be  acquired.  Learn  to  relax  the  body,  to  forget 
the  grind,  to  let  go  the  anxieties,  to  think  of  noth- 
ing but  the  comfort  which  soft-fingered  somno- 
lence brings.  The  art  of  falling  asleep  can  be 


;WHEN  SLEEP  IS  A  PROBLEM  131 

self  taught,  and  when  once  learned,  the  mishap  of 
waking  untimely  will  be  only  an  incident. 

The  Morning  Sleeper — There  is  a  type  of  poor 
sleeper  who  deserves  no  sympathy,  tho'  as  a 
rule  this  is  his  stock  in  trade.  Many  fail  to  find 
the  sleep  they  claim  to  seek  until  the  early  morning 
hours.  To  meet  this  difficulty  they  give  emphatic 
orders  that  they  are  not  to  be  disturbed  till  ten 
or  eleven  o  'clock — and  they  sleep  with  a  vengeance 
through  all  the  busy  sounds  of  uprisings  and 
breakfast  gettings.  They  ''didn't  get  to  sleep  till 
two."  They  "woke  up  at  nine."  Alas!  Truly 
their  habit  is  nothing  but  an  excuse  for  lying  abed 
in  the  morning.  If  they  are  unceremoniously 
yanked  out  at  six  A.M.  willy-nilly,  few  nights  would 
pass  before  eleven  o  'clock  would  find  them  snoring. 
But  most  vehemently  these  individuals  deny  that 
from  eleven  to  six  is  in  the  same  class  as  from  two 
to  nine.  The  insomnia  of  morning-sleepers  re- 
pudiates mathematics. 

David  realized  that  there  were  those  who  failed 
to  find  sleep  through  either  early  rising  or  late 
retiring.  He  saw  clearly  that  worry,  or  as  he 
called  it,  "eating  the  bread  of  sorrows,"  was  a 
sleep-getting  failure.  He  knew  the  sick  of  soul 
for  whom  physical  help  and  improved  mental 
habits  availed  nothing,  for  an  unhappy  spirit  is 
deadly  potent  in  driving  sleep  away  from  those 
whose  consciences  are  sensitive.  And  it  is  to  these 
he  refers  when  he  so  beautifully  writes,  "He  giveth 
His  beloved  sleep."  Are  not  His  beloved  those 
men  and  women  who  thru  their  waking  hours 


live  the  best  they  know,  and  who,  when  the  night 
comes,  with  its  approaching  period  of  helpless  un- 
consciousness, in  a  faith  which  reason  cannot 
shake,  leave  their  unsolved  problems  in  the  hands 
of  the  Providence  which  placed  them  in  a  life  of 
mysteries  and  conflicts,  of  defeats  and  victories? 
Are  not  His  beloved  those  who  at  the  bedtime  hour 
place  their  all  in  the  keeping  of  their  Maker,  and 
thus  bury  worries  and  anxieties  and  fears,  enmi- 
ties and  vaulting  ambitions  in  that  same  trust 
which  makes  the  sleep  of  the  child  so  perfect? 

"Of  all  the  thoughts  of  God  that  are 
Borne  inward  into  souls  afar 
Along  the  Psalmist 's  music  deep 
Now  tell  me  if  that  any  are 
For  gift  or  grace,  surpassing  this 
He  giveth  His  beloved  sleep  ? ' ' 


CHAPTER  XH 

SUNSHINE  OR  SHADOWS 

Be  of  good  cheer 

Shadows — We  hear  the  word  Nature  used  and 
often  indefinitely,  to  represent  manifestations  of 
power.  But  is  not  all  which  we  loosely  bundle 
under  this  term  a  recognized  expression  of  law  and 
order?  So  true  is  this  that  the  heathen's  worship 
of  fire  and  his  bowing  down  to  age-defying  stone 
are  not  without  their  glimmer  of  reason.  Nature 
understood  proves  to  be  intelligence  struggling  to- 
ward expression.  This  becomes  clearer  when  we 
consider  human  nature;  and  from  this  point  of 
view,  an  analytic  one  indeed,  life  is  seen  as  man's 
opportunity  for  self-expression. 

Stone  is  most  limited  in  its  ability  to  express  in- 
telligence. It  can  but  mutely  resist  and  endure. 
Fire  exercises  a  far  larger  freedom.  It  selects 
this  and  rejects  that.  It  serves  when  it  must.  It 
triumphs  when  it  can.  But  the  soul  of  man,  who 
can  set  its  limits!  Who  can  stay  its  progress? 
And  to  each  of  us  may  not  the  question  profitably 
come,  "How  is  this  life  of  mine  expressing  itself? " 
I  am  a  business  man.  Have  I  become  a  business 
machine,  eating  and  sleeping  and  theatre-going 
that  I  may  grind  the  more  productively?  I  am 
a  social  follower,  possibly  a  social  leader.  Do 

133 


134      OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

functions  and  pride  of  appearance,  the  struggle  to 
attain  a  higher  status,  a  carking  fear  lest  I  lose 
caste,  do  these  stand  for  the  whole  expression  of 
my  being?  Or  is  amusement  my  single  aim?  Am 
I  a  sport,  reading,  thinking,  talking  sport  alone, 
being  amused — or  miserable,  being  entertained— 
or  unhappy?  Am  I  a  church-member  attending 
every  service  of  the  sanctuary  thru  force  of 
habit — the  ritual  for  me  but  a  mummery — spirit- 
ually without  growth  thru  the  years?  Is  home 
but  a  place  to  eat  and  sleep  and  change  apparel? 
Are  parents  and  relatives  objectives  at  whom  I 
direct  my  ill-nature?  Is  their  ease  considered 
when  my  own  is  in  question?  Am  I  thus  narrow- 
ing and  darkening  the  great  way  of  life,  wretchedly 
limiting  my  expression  of  the  marvelous  oppor- 
tunities which  life,  to-day  more  than  all  days  that 
have  gone,  offers  so  without  limit  ? 

It  is  significant  in  man's  record  in  the  past,  and 
in  the  record  of  the  majority  to-day  that  the  gloom- 
life  is  much  in  excess  of  the  cheer-life.  Note  your 
neighbor 's  household.  Acquaint  yourself  with  the 
disposition  of  his  chauffeur,  his  cook,  his  butler, 
his  children,  of  himself  and  the  Madam.  Of  the 
ten,  three  only,  probably,  will  reveal  the  cheer  of 
happiness — for  the  rest,  depression,  fault-finding, 
habitual  surrender  to  morbidness,  a  sullen  accept- 
ance of  the  "miseries  of  existence,"  surliness,  a 
hang-dog  dejection,  unwholesome  suspicion. 
Ugh !  What  an  ugly  list !  While  thus  visiting  let 
us  look  into  our  neighbor's  kitchen  and  see  what 
his  cook  does  with  the  good  food  the  market-man 
brings.  Is  she  not  prone  to  overcook  the  meat,  to 


SUNSHINE  OR  SHADOWS  135 

overseason  the  soup,  to  leave  blotches  of  heavy 
grease  floating  on  the  gravy,  to  boil  the  tea  bitter, 
to  send  in  the  coffee  muddy?  How  much  good 
food  is  spoiled  in  the  preparation!  Let  us  look 
into  the  kitchen  of  our  own  souls.  We  have  clever- 
ness, strength  of  will,  ability,  abounding  physical 
health,  a  gift  of  speech,  an  artistic  instinct,  facile 
fingers.  Opportunity  not  only  knocked,  but  has 
long  nestled  on  our  doorstep.  Eiches  lie  un- 
touched in  the  vaults  of  our  bank,  but  our  lives 
have  been  spoiled  by  ugly  moods.  How  often  the 
cook  fails  in  his  chef  d'osuvre  for  lack  of  a  mere 
dash  of  seasoning.  How  many  thousands  doubly 
blessed  by  heredity  and  environment  have  missed 
happiness  because  they  have  failed  to  add  the  sea- 
soning of  cheer.  Youth  without  cheer  is  conspicu- 
ously abnormal.  Seriousness  is  usually  associated 
with  maturity  and  the  procession  of  the  senile  is 
proverbially  one  of  gloom.  And  pity  'tis,  'tis  true 
— but  the  greater  pity  is,  that  'tis  so,  when  it  need 
not  be.  We  almost  habitually  speak  of  the 
lengthening  shadows  of  old  age,  and  gloom-habits 
express  indolence  of  the  soul  as  truly  as  physical 
sloth  is  shown  thru  restricted  activities.  The 
gloom-self  often  starts  early.  The  day  we  begin 
to  wall  ourselves  in,  we  shut  some  of  the  sunshine 
out.  And  as  we  build  that  wall  which  separates 
us  from  our  neighbor,  the  gloom  within  increases. 
It  may  start  as  mere  social  exclusiveness,  a  de- 
fense to  a  haunting,  unfaced  unworthiness.  More 
often  the  selfishness  which  fears  to  lose  by  sharing, 
which  guards  personal  ease  as  a  precious  treasure, 
turns  life  into  a  cave  of  gloom  where  we  live  re- 


136       OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

mote  from  our  kind,  companioned  by  the  bats 
which  stand  for  fear  of  loss.  Alone,  too,  self -im- 
prisoned and  shunned  is  the  arrogantly  wretched, 
sour-souled  pessimist  who  finds  no  good  in  past, 
present  or  future,  in  man,  woman  or  God. 

Firelight — Less  and  less  frequently  do  we  sit  on 
the  hearth-rug  and  read  fairy-pictures  in  the  lap- 
ping flame  and  the  glowing  embers  of  the  burning 
back  log.  How  almost  sacred  do  the  hours  we 
have  so  spent  seem  in  retrospect.  For  most  of  us 
the  cheer  of  the  fire's  blaze  is  found  these  days  in 
the  coal-grate.  Yet  merrily  it  too  can  laugh! 
How  thrillingly  its  oozing  black  bubbles  burst  into 
an  incandescent  tongue,  alternating  with  a  spout- 
ing grey  plume  of  flame-eager  smoke.  With  what 
significant  comradery  the  black  lumps  melt  into 
a  congenial  oneness,  and  interlocked,  char  and 
glow  and  diffuse  every  atom  of  their  wealth  of 
warmth  before  they  ashen  and  drop  inert.  For 
scores  of  years  the  back-log  gathered  into  its 
sinews  strength  and  heat  from  the  sun,  for  untold 
centuries  the  shovelful  of  coals  held  fast  its  golden 
flame  and,  treasuring  the  cheer  of  forgotten  ages, 
kept  inviolate  the  tropic's  kiss  for  a  cold,  spec- 
ulative, gloomy  day.  Then  in  a  burst  of  cheer,  in 
the  fulness  of  service  it  gives  back  every  caress  its 
sun-mother  gave. 

Our  forefathers  shivered  and  half-starved  on 
their  unproductive  farms,  ignorant  of  the  bound- 
less wealth  so  close  to  the  hungry  tooth  of  their 
plows.  But  even  when  found,  coal  and  petroleum 
have  been  released  from  their  ages-old  recesses 
only  thru  human  toil  and  sacrifice.  And  all  of 


SUNSHINE  OR  SHADOWS  137 

this  we  are  so  prone  to  forget  as  we  allow  the 
firelight  to  woo  us  from  strenuous  facts  to  restful 
revery.  We  forget,  too,  that  even  as  the  riches 
of  remote  days  have  dropped  beneath  the  earth's 
surface  to  be  used  in  time  of  future  need,  so  each 
hour 's  experience  of  our  own  lives  is  slipping  more 
or  less  completely  from  Memory's  sight  into  the 
recesses  of  our  subconscious,  and  unthinkingly 
each  day  is  adding  to  the  store-house  of  this 
mysterious,  yet  tremendously  determining  uncon- 
scious self.  Into  it  has  dropped  all  which  we 
think  we  have  forgotten.  Into  it,  appalled,  fever- 
ishly, we  crowd  out  of  sight  that  which  we  would 
hide.  In  it  accumulate  all  experiences,  whether 
involving  a  minute 's  time  or  a  day 's.  Out  of  sight 
— Yes !  but  immiment  of  discovery,  often  ready  for 
instant  re-use.  Ominously  each  happening  slowly 
loses  distinctiveness  and  becomes  part  of  a  fateful 
background  which  ultimately  controls  every  spon- 
taneous thought  and  act.  Thus,  from  our  attitude 
of  the  moment,  the  attitude  beautifying  or  defac- 
ing each  act,  certain  ones  will  gradually  so  pre- 
ponderate as  to  control  our  subconscious  atmos- 
phere. So  our  moods  are  made ! 

Let  us  stop  and  think.  What  is  my  spontaneous 
feeling  when,  for  instance,  I  meet  a  stranger  ?  Is 
it  a  desire  to  keenly  and  cleverly  discover  his 
faults?  We  may  be  sure  he  has  them.  Is  it,  for 
conceit's  sake,  to  underestimate  his  worth?  Is  it, 
pharisaically,  to  pity  him  in  his  shortcomings? 
Is  it,  for  truth's  sake,  to  find  his  worth  that  I  may 
respect  and  honor  and  profit?  Some  of  us  are 
ever  suspicious,  some  always  credulous,  a  few  un- 


138      OLD  AT  FORTY  OB  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

remittingly  fair.  What  emotion  speaks  loudest, 
when  inconvenienced? — Impatience,  resentment, 
sharp  anger?  Does  it  take  a  curse  or  so  to  dissi- 
pate the  tension?  Or  do  I  summon  reason  or 
gentleness,  or  consideration  for  the  other  fellow, 
who  may  be  even  harder  hit?  What  is  my  de- 
fense in  the  face  of  criticism?  Some  lie  openly. 
Some  deceive  themselves  first,  and  then  lie. 
Others  find  in  an  unfounded  conceit  a  comfortable 
shield.  Still  others  dumbly  ignore — it  minimizes 
effort.  A  few  are  thoughtful  and  seek  in  the  crit- 
icism the  new  point  of  view  which  its  half  truth 
offers.  Some  of  us  become  tense,  and  chuck  our 
boilers  full  of  inflammables,  raising  brain-pressure 
threateningly,  and,  making  a  habit  of  so  doing, 
with  no  safety  valves  of  tolerance  or  cheerful  pa- 
tience, find  ourselves  abed,  much  nursed  and  doc- 
tored and  badly  paralyzed — because  Mrs.  Neigh- 
bor criticised  the  up-to-date  cut  of  Wife's  last 
evening  dress.  What  does  praise  bring  out  of  our 
subconscious?  The  preening  strut  of  added  self- 
satisfaction,  a  truth-obscuring  after-glow  of 
cheaply  won  contentment,  an  unsafe  trust  and 
confidence  in  him  who  so  glibly  flattered — or  here, 
and  here  is  its  place,  a  rectifying  doubt,  an  honest 
balancing  of  the  good  and  the  mediocre?  Have 
we  not  seen  that  the  emotions  which  we  allow  to 
mingle  with  each  happening  become  a  part  of  every 
experience ;  that  multiplied  experiences  determine 
our  moods ;  and  that,  ultimately,  despite  multiplied 
resolutions,  our  subconscious  moods  merge  into 
and  become  character. 
Sunshine — Is  it  not  true  for  every  man  who  pro- 


SUNSHINE  OB  SHADOWS  139 

fesses  manhood,  for  every  woman  who  claims 
womanhood,  that  the  gloom  or  cheer  of  their  lives 
is  of  their  own  making?  Sorrow  will  bring  sad- 
ness. It  cannot  force  gloom.  Plenty  opens  the 
door  of  pleasure.  No  gold  can  buy  happiness.  Is 
not  life  sordid  to  the  greedy,  narrow  to  the  ignor- 
ant, ugly  to  him  whose  subconscious  is  embittered 
with  hate?  Does  not  the  artist's  mind  find  beauty 
in  weeds  and  lowliness  and  simplicity  ?  And  is  not 
life  more  happy  to  the  cheerful  than  to  any  other 
group  of  the  children  of  men?  No  matter  what 
our  age  in  years,  in  spite  of  any  infirmity  of  the 
flesh,  or  emptiness  of  purse,  or  loss  of  companion- 
ship, cheer  will  continue  to  add  the  beautifying 
touch  of  youth  to  every  relation  of  life. 

At  forty  most  of  us  have  lost,  thru  neglect,  the 
cheer  impulse  of  early  days — and  if  the  spirit  is 
to  be  renewed — and  youth  of  the  spirit  is  the  only 
youth  which  will  endure  thru  all — it  must  be 
fought  for.  Did  any  man  start  with  less  and  re- 
ceive less  from  others  thru  his  early  days,  than 
Lincoln?  Was  there  ever  a  face  into  which  sad- 
ness has  graven  more  deeply  her  lines,  until  in 
repose  it  might  have  been  tragedy's  mask  of  sor- 
row? But  whenever  he  touched  human  lives  it 
was  with  the  touch  of  tenderness  or  cheer.  In- 
opportunely, his  critics  said,  he  would  tell  one  of 
his  inexhaustible  stories,  nor  was  any  situation 
ever  so  grave  that  he  did  not  attempt  to  brighten 
by  a  flash  of  his  kindly  humor.  A  soul,  his,  which 
bravely  and  unswervingly  refused  to  be  buried  un- 
der the  multiplying  sorrows  of  heritage,  poverty 
of  early  advantages,  misunderstanding,  detraction, 


140       OLD  AT  FORTY  OB  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

enmity  and  the  tremendous  responsibilities  of  his 
country's  darkest  hour.  And  was  it  not  his  fight 
for  cheer  which  helped  keep  his  thought  life  so  re- 
markably free  from  self-pity,  suspicion  and  jeal- 
ousy? His  was  never  a  frothy  optimism,  a  mere 
pretense  of  good  where  good  was  not,  but  an  in- 
domitable cheer,  a  virile  virtue  possible  only  when 
the  sunshine  of  past  days  has  been  preserved  in 
the  treasury  of  the  subconscious. 

Aged  indeed  we  are  when  we  have  not  cheer  for 
at  least  a  select  few.  But  this  is  far  from  stand- 
ing for  wealth  of  cheer  expression — it  too  often  is 
but  a  contrast  relief,  giving  variety  and  thus  add- 
ing selfish  enjoyment  to  miserly,  common  and 
sordid  lives.  Where  is  the  soul  so  gloom-cluttered 
that,  devoutly  wishing  to  bear  the  spirit  of  youth 
to  the  end,  may  not,  with  faith  in  the  ageless 
Divine,  become  more  and  more  imbued  with  the 
true  spirit  of  cheer?  Ten  years  of  hourly  cheer 
thinking,  ten  years  with  no  day  devoid  of  some  act 
of  self-f orgetfulness  and  gratuitous,  cheerful  serv- 
ice will  do  it.  But  how  much  more  quickly  the 
perfect  cheer  comes  when  the  heart  within  is  kind. 
Then  with  certainty  may  every  sorrow  be  trans- 
muted into  song.  Of  one  so  evolved  we  may 
speak  as  does  the  Arab  poet  of  his  hero : 

Sunshine  was  he 
On  the  winter's  day ; 
And  in  the  midsummer 
Coolness  and  shade. 


CHAPTER 


"Youth  shows  but  half;  trutt  God,  see  all,  nor  be 
afraid." 

The  Weight  of  Years — It  is  significant  that  the 
common  estimate  of  old  age  is  made  in  terms  of 
loss.  Shakespeare  most  vividly  pictures  this — an 
aged  one  in  "second  childishness  and  mere 
oblivion/'  lacking  teeth,  hair,  sight,  taste,  with- 
ered and  wrinkled  and  altogether  unattractive. 
Even  Solomon,  with  his  wisdom,  when  rising  to 
one  of  his  most  perfect  poetic  flights,  in  the  last 
chapter  of  Ecclesiastes,  relates  only  decrepitude, 
fearsomeness  and  loneliness.  But  both  Solomon 
and  Shakespeare  observed  and  recorded  in  the 
days  when  Science  was  primitive,  when  physicians 
were  few  and  more  apt  to  be  charlatans  and  tricks- 
ters than  masters  of  their  then  crude  art — while 
dentists  were  unknown.  Calories,  food  values, 
nutritional  balancing,  bacteria,  infection  and  the 
equation  of  personal  resistance  were  then  un- 
thought.  The  revelations  of  mental  science  point- 
ing definitely  to  decrepitating  errors  of  thought 
and  feeling  were  vaguely  visioned  and  but  rarely 
applied.  For  long,  surprisingly  long  generations, 
physical  and  mental  life  were  ordered  in  weirdly 
haphazard  ways.  David  believed  that  fourscore 

141 


142       OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

years  were  possible  only  by  reason  of  individual 
strength,  and  that  the  extra  ten  added  to  man's 
allotted  seventy  stood  for  sorrow. 

Our  own  generation  is  truly  the  first  in  the  his- 
tory of  mankind  when  a  scientific,  constructive 
study,  promising  a  happy  lengthening  of  days  is 
possible.  We  have  already  learned  that  much  of 
the  weight  of  years  can  be  lightened.  It  is  an 
unquestioned  fact  that  the  average  person  of  sixty- 
five,  when  examined  thoroughly,  will  be  found  to 
have  an  undermined  constitution,  with  vital  organs 
underactive,  a  victim  already  of  hardening  arter- 
ies. He  is  gripped  fast  by  scores  of  physically 
and  mentally  damaging  habits,  which  he  is  fairly 
helpless  to  break  because  his  limited  outlook  has 
robbed  him  of  initiative.  He  lives,  a  practical  au- 
tomaton, hopeless  in  the  apathy  of  fatally  nar- 
rowed interests.  All  this  the  regular  physician 
finds.  The  soul  doctor  sees  even  more.  With  him 
the  evidences  of  senility  are  revealed  when  he  dis- 
covers that  the  uplift  of  hope  and  the  faith  that 
never  faileth,  are  mere  hollow  echoings  of  a  voice 
which  has  not  spoken  for  years.  He  finds  men  in 
early  senility  garrulous,  wearisomely  so,  and 
women  gossipy,  destroyingly  so.  And  for  them 
both  retrospect  has  grown  more  and  more  vivid, 
even  as  prospect  is  dimmed  and  fading.  The  best 
for  these  unhappy  ones  has  already  been,  and 
rightfully  may  genius  and  wisdom  and  seer  paint 
age  in  terms  of  loss.  By  such,  old  age  has,  too 
frequently  throughout  the  past,  been  unhappily 
represented.  And  to  every  mind  that  is  thought- 
ful the  knowledge  comes  clear  that  it  is  not 


THE  BEST  IS  YET  TO  BE  143 

wrinkled  features  which  have  repelled,  but  the 
wrinkled  soul  within. 

Every  age  has  its  burdens  which  are  considered 
intolerable  by  those  who  have  not  developed  re- 
sources of  the  spirit.  Nor  can  we  question  that 
these  burdens  become  doubly  baneful  as  the 
shadows  lengthen.  But  every  change  in  the  way 
of  life  faces  difficulties.  Childhood  prepares  for 
youth,  and  youth  makes  ready  for  adolescence,  and 
the  years  of  young  maturity  strive  that  they  may 
the  more  perfectly  meet  the  burdens  of  middle 
life.  And  is  not  the  secret  here  revealed,  that 
mid-life  slips  into  age  defeated  or  satisfied,  in 
either  case  failing  to  put  forth  any  purposeful  ef- 
fort, that  later  days  may  be  better  days  ?  Do  not 
the  majority  merely  drift  and  ground  on  the  bar 
and  go  to  pieces  in  the  wash  of  the  tide,  rather 
than  take  advantage  of  the  flow,  and  safely  cross 
when  they  put  into  the  harbor  of  last  years  I 

The  Science  of  Growing  Old — We  have  studied 
many  details  which,  without  a  question,  will  in- 
crease the  number  of  useful  days  for  the  large 
majority  who  will  heed.  The  essential  causes  of 
untimely  decrepitude  have  been  clearly  revealed  to 
the  thoughtful  reader.  The  science  of  medicine  is 
rapidly  removing  the  mysteries  which,  through  all 
past  time,  have  shrouded  deficient  nutrition,  or- 
ganic heart  disease,  swift  striking  paralysis,  the 
criminally  common  Bright 's  disease.  Even  can- 
cer, the  insidious,  that  deadly  foe  of  age,  is  sub- 
ject to  the  ceaseless  investigation  of  scores  of  the 
world's  best  laboratories,  and  will  soon  be  routed 
from  its  secret  lair.  We  already  know  that  the 


144      OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

soil  in  which  it  so  malignly  thrives,  can  be  made 
practically  barren  by  simple  habits  of  self-denial. 
And  to-day,  and  increasingly  as  the  days  of  knowl- 
edge unfold,  will  the  majority  of  untimely  deaths 
and  useless  physical  and  mental  weakness,  now 
spoken  of  hopelessly  as  "old  age,"  be  the  result  of 
the  individual's  choice  and  not,  as  in  the  past, 
the  unhappy,  inexplicable  residuum  of  ignorance. 
Five  extra  years  have  been  given  to  men  and 
women  under  fifty  thru  medical  conquest  of  the 
infections  so  common  to  youth.  Ten  years  can 
and  should  be  added  to  the  days  over  fifty  when 
wisdom  and  self-mastery  are  raised  to  leadership. 

Psychology,  like  some  of  our  neighbors,  has 
quite  outdone  itself  in  pointing  out  our  faults. 
We  are  now  able  to  analyze  to  a  hair's  breadth  the 
measure  of  each  other's  mental  deficiencies.  An- 
alytic psychology  is  disconcertingly  far  ahead  of 
constructive  psychology.  We  are  hearing  much 
of  reeducational  methods,  and  goodness  knows! 
there  is  a  world  of  it  to  be  done.  Education  it- 
self seems  to  some  hopelessly  conservative,  and 
has  for  years  been  occupying  the  position  of  pre- 
paring armies  of  men  and  women  to  be  "reedu- 
cated" or  go  to  smash.  But  there  is  hope.  Even 
to-day  one  large  college  is  matriculating  pupils  on 
the  basis  of  their  ability  to  use  their  minds  right — 
not  on  the  basis  of  what  has  been  stuffed  into  their 
wits  for  entrance-examination  purposes.  And  as 
time  goes  on  our  educators  will  be  more  and  more 
educated  in  the  sense  that  they  will  stand  as  lead- 
ers in  the  way  of  intelligent  living. 

Examples  as  old  as  history  have  been  before  us 


THE  BEST  IS  YET  TO  BE  145 

so  long  that  it  would  seem  that  our  mental  ways 
of  living  should,  generations  ago,  have  been 
mended.  Solon  grew  old  "  daily  learning  some- 
thing new."  Cicero,  studying  Greek  at  eighty- 
four  writes,  "For  a  man  who  lives  in  the  midst  of 
studies  and  labors  does  not  perceive  when  old  age 
creeps  upon  him."  Did  he  not  also  express  it 
perfectly — that  relation  of  the  mind  to  old  age 
when  he  said,  "Appius  kept  his  mind  at  full 
stretch  like  a  bow,  and  never  gave  in  to  old  age  by 
becoming  slack."  The  Church,  as  well  as  the 
pagans,  has  produced  many  venerable  "happy 
saints"  in  the  flesh,  and  when  all  else  has  been 
said,  the  worship  of  God  has  gone  further  to  beau- 
tify and  to  win  protection  and  respect  for  man's 
declining  years  than  any  other  factors  of  the  past. 
The  "Honour  thy  father  and  mother,"  of  the 
Hebrews,  the  ancestor  worship  of  Confucianism, 
the  accepted  tenets  of  Christianity — who  can  tell 
the  added  years  which,  in  happiness,  they  have 
given  to  the  old!  Too  often  have  all  religions  in 
the  darkness  of  their  ignorance  of  true  causes  of 
suffering  and  disease  been  forced  into  a  blind 
fatalism  which  looked  beyond  the  veil  for  the  only 
lasting  joys.  But  when  the  science  and  the  art  of 
growing  old  are  ours,  future  beatitudes  can  truly 
be  previsioned  in  the  days  that  are. 

The  Good  Part— The  faults  of  old  age,  fretful- 
ness,  intolerance,  ill  temper,  stinginess,  tiresome- 
ness are  not  necessarily  defects  of  declining  years 
more  than  of  maturity.  Accurately  speaking, 
whenever  occurring  in  life  they  are  faults  of  char- 
acter. All  complaints  that  old  age  is  friendless 


146      OLD  AT  FORTY  OR  YOUNG  AT  SIXTY 

should  be  ascribed  to  an  uninteresting  personality 
or  an  unlovable  nature.  That  the  later  years  are 
not  the  richest  ones  cannot  be  charged  against  man 
or  God,  but  only  to  self.  "If  one  has  lived  much 
as  well  as  long,  the  harvest  is  wonderful."  For 
centuries  there  have  been  those  searching  the  face 
of  the  earth  for  a  "Fountain  of  Youth/'  for  some 
rejuvenating  waters,  a  draught  of  which  would  put 
at  naught  the  law  of  the  decades.  The  Alchemist 
sought  in  vain  for  the  transmuting  drug  which 
would  cause  the  withered  cheek  to  bloom  again, 
the  dulling  eyes  to  regain  their  brilliance,  scrawny 
hands  to  return  to  softness  and  plumpness,  and 
drying  muscles  to  feel  once  more  the  resistless 
vigor  of  youth.  It  has  never  been  found,  it  never 
will  be  found.  The  body  is  born,  it  develops,  it 
maintains  its  right  of  health  and  strength  under 
divine  laws,  secularly  spoken  of  as  physics  and 
chemistry.  The  mind  mounts  from  its  lowly  es- 
tate to  the  wisdom  of  the  philosopher,  the  bril- 
liance of  genius,  the  leadership  of  a  Caesar — 
under  God — Yes !  For  the  laws  of  psychology  are 
His.  The  laws  of  physics  and  chemistry  and  of 
mental  science  reveal  no  miraculous  growth  or  re- 
version. A  thin  ring  each  year  marks  tile  increase 
in  the  oak's  girt,  a  fact  or  two  each  day  the  un- 
folding of  the  mind.  A  resolution  made  once  a 
week  or  a  month  and  maintained  thru  the  years 
tells  of  the  development  of  the  will.  For  the  body 
and  mind  it  is  to-day  a  little,  to-morrow  a  little. 
Only  step  by  step,  do  they  grow. 

Do  we  crave  the  plenty  of  a  spiritualized  old 
age?    Then — the  one  miracle  of  human  develop- 


THE  BEST  IS  YET  TO  BE  147 

ment  which  is  ours  to  choose — the  soul's  turning 
away  from  the  selfish  things  of  self,  to  a  self- 
effacing  life  of  cheerful  service  for  our  kind! 
Then  slowly,  di  scour  agin  gly,  wearisomely  so  at 
first,  may  the  soul  drag  its  mind  and  body  back  to 
the  heights  which  the  years  have  not  known,  be- 
cause we  have  forgotten  that  the  only  youth  which 
can  abide  through  all,  is  a  youth  of  the  Spirit. 
Having  chosen  that  good  part  it  shall  not  pass 
away! 

Maturity  is  in  its  full.  To-morrow  for  most  of 
those  of  our  age,  it  will  begin  to  wane.  Which 
shall  it  be?  A  senility  which  stands  for  gradual, 
irrevocable,  heart-dulling  loss;  or  the  growth  of 
that  only  self  which  knows  not  age,  that  growth 
which  makes  the  years  to  glow  as  a  halo,  lightening 
the  face  until  it  seems  to  radiate  a  spirit  fairly 
crowding  its  inadequate  frame,  reaching  forth,  it 
would  seem,  in  anticipation  of  immortal  freedom  1 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


SOUTHERN  BR 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA, 

LIBRARY, 


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